YOU 
SHOULD  WORRY 

says 
John  Henry 


GEORGE- V-  HOBART 


YOU    SHOULD  WORRY 

Says  John  Henry 

BY 

••• 

GEORGE  V.  HOBART 


ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 
EDWARD     CAREY 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1914,  BY 
G.  W.  DILUNGHAM  COMPANY 


Att  rights  reserved 


The  author  reserves  all  stage  rights,  which  includes 
moving  pictures.  Any  infringement  of  copyright  will 
be  dealt  with  according  to  law. 


You  Skovld  Worry 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Co. 
New  York 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  A  TANGO  LES- 
SON          5 

II.    You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  AN  AUTOMOBILE  28 

III.  You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  DIETING  ...  45 

IV.  You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  GETTING  A  GOAT  64 
V.     You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  BEING  IN  LOVE  .  78 

VI.     You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  SNAP-SHOTS    .    97 
VII.    You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  THE  SERVANTS  .  108 
VIII.     You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  AUCTION  BRIDGE  130 
IX.    You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP  142 
X.    You  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVE- 
NING        158 


YOU   SHOULD  WORRY 

CHAPTER    I 

YOU    SHOULD    WORRY   ABOUT   A    TANGO   LESSON 

THE  idea  originated  with  Bunch  Jef- 
ferson.    You  can  always  count  on 
Bunch  having  a  few  freak  ideas  in  the 
belfry  where  he  keeps  his  butterflies. 
Bunch  and  his  wife,  Alice,  live  out  in  West- 
chester  County,  about  half  a  mile  from  Uncle 
Peter's  bungalow,  where   friend  wife  and  I 
are  spending  the  winter. 

The  fact  that  Uncle  Peter  and  Aunt  Mar- 
tha had  decided  to  give  us  a  party  was  the 
inspiration  for  Bunch's  brilliant  idea. 
5 


6  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

"Listen,  John,"  he  Macchiavellied ;  "not  one 
of  this  push  out  here  knows  a  thing  about  the 
Tango.  Most  of  them  have  a  foolish  idea 
that  it's  a  wicked  institution  invented  by  the 
devil,  who  sold  his  patent  rights  to  the  Evil- 
Doers'  Association.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what 
we'll  do,  John:  we'll  put  them  wise.  We'll 
take  about  two  lessons  from  a  good  instruc- 
tor in  town  and  on  the  night  of  the  party 
we'll  make  the  hit  of  our  lives  teaching  them 
all  to  Tango — are  you  James  to  the  possibili- 
ties?" 

"It  listens  like  a  good  spiel,"  I  agreed ;  "but 
will  a  couple  of  lessons  be  enough  for  us?" 

"Sure,"  he  came  back ;  "we're  not  a  couple 
of  Patsys  with  the  pumps!  We  can  learn 


ABOUT  A   TANGO  LESSON          7 

enough  in  two  lessons  to  make  good  in  this 
Boob  community.  Why,  we'll  start  a  Tango 
craze  out  here  that  will  put  life  and  ginger  in 
the  whole  outfit  and  presently  they'll  be  put- 
ting up  statues  in  our  honor." 

Well,  to  make  a  long  story  lose  its  cunning, 
we  made  arrangements  next  day  with  Ikey 
Schwartz,  Dancing  Instructor,  to  explain  the 
mysteries  of  this  modern  home-wrecking  prop- 
osition known  as  the  Tango,  and  paid  him  in 
advance  the  sum  of  $100. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  a  hundred  iron  men 
in  advance  was  a  nifty  little  price  for  two 
lessons,  but  Bunch  assured  me  the  price  was 
reasonable  on  account  of  the  prevalence  of 
rich  scholars  willing  to  divide  their  patrimony 


8  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

with  anybody  who  could  teach  their  feet  to  be- 
have in  time  to  the  music. 

We  made  an  appointment  to  meet  Ikey  at 
his  "studio"  for  our  first  lesson  the  following 
afternoon.  Then  we  hiked  for  home  on  the 
4.14,  well  pleased  with  our  investment  and  its 
promise  of  golden  returns. 

That  night  Bunch  and  Alice  were  over  to 
our  place  for  dinner.  After  dinner  Bunch  and 
I  sat  down  by  the  log  fire  in  the  Dutch  room, 
filled  our  faces  with  Havana  panatellas,  and 
proceeded  to  enjoy  life  in  silence. 

Into  the  next  room  came  Alice  and  Peaches 
and  sat  down  for  their  usual  cackle. 

Bunch  and  I  started  from  our  reveries  when 
we  heard  Alice  say  to  Peaches,  "You  don't 


ABOUT  A   TANGO  LESSON          9 

know  what  a  source  of  comfort  it  has  been 
to  me  to  realize  that  Bunch  doesn't  know 
a  blessed  thing  about  the  Tango  or  any  of 
those  hatefully  intimate  new  dances!" 

"The  same  with  me,  Alice,"  friend  wife 
chirped  in.  "I  believe  if  John  were  to  sud- 
denly display  the  ability  to  dance  the  Tango 
I'd  be  broken-hearted.  Naturally,  I'd  know 
that  he  must  have  learned  it  with  a  wicked 
companion  in  some  lawless  cabaret.  And  if 
he  frequented  cabarets  without  my  knowledge 
— oh,  Alice,  what  would  I  do?" 

I  looked  at  Bunch,  he  looked  at  me,  and 
then  we  both  looked  out  the  window. 

"For  my  part,"  Alice  went  on,  "I  trust 
Bunch  so  implicitly  that  I  don't  even  question 


10  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

his  motive  when  he  telephones  me  he  has  to 
take  dinner  in  town  with  a  prospective  real 
estate  customer." 

"And  I  know  enough  of  human  nature," 
Peaches  gurgled,  "to  be  sure  that  if  either 
one  of  them  could  Tango  he  would  be  crazy 
to  show  off  at  home.  I  think  we're  very  lucky, 
both  of  us,  to  have  such  steady-going  hus- 
bands, don't  you,  Alice?" 

At  this  point  Aunt  Martha  buzzed  into  the 
other  room  and  the  cackle  took  on  another 
complexion. 

In  the  meantime  Bunch  and  I  had  passed 
away. 

"It's  cold  turkey,"  I  whispered. 

"I've  been  in  the  refrigerator  for  ten  min- 


ABOUT  A   TANGO  LESSON         11 

utes  and  I'm  chilled  to  the  bone,"  Bunch 
whispered  back. 

"Can  we  get  our  coin  away  from  Ikey?"  I 
asked. 

"We  can  try,"  Bunch  sneezed. 

The  next  afternoon  we  had  Ikey  Schwartz 
for  luncheon  with  us  at  the  St.  Astorbilt.  The 
idea  being  to  dazzle  him  and  get  a  few  of  the 
iron  men  back. 

"Leave  everything  to  me,"  Bunch  growled 
as  we  shaved  our  hats  and  Indian-filed  to  a 
trough. 

"A  quart  of  Happysuds,"  Bunch  ordered. 
"How  about  it,  Ikey?" 

Ikey  flashed  a  grin  and  tried  to  swallow 


YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 


his  palate,  so  it  wouldn',t  interfere  with  the 
wet  spell  suggested  by  Bunch. 

Ikey  belonged  to  the  "dis,  dose  and  dem" 
push. 

Every  long  sentence  he  uttered  was  full  of 
splintered  grammar. 

Every  time  Ikey  opened  h;s  word-chest  the 
King's  English  screamed  for  help,  and  liter- 
ature got  a  kick  in  the  slats. 

He  was  short  and  thin,  but  it  was  a  decep- 
tive thinness.  His  capacity  for  storing  away 
free  liquids  was  awe-inspiring  and  a  sin. 

I  think  Ikey  must  have  been  hollow  from 
the  neck  to  the  ankles,  with  emergency  bulk- 
heads in  both  feet. 

His  nose  was  shaped  like  a  quarter  to  six 


ABOUT  A   TANGO  LESSON         13 

o'clock.  It  began  in  the  middle  and  rushed 
both  ways  as  hard  as  it  could.  One  end  of  it 
ducked  into  his  forehead  and  never  did  come 
out. 

His  interior  was  sponge-lined,  and  when  the 
bartenders  began  to  send  them  in  fast,  Ikey 
would  lower  an  asbestos  curtain  to  keep  the 
fumes  away  from  his  brain. 

Nobody  ever  saw  Ikey  at  high  tide. 

There  was  surely  something  wrong  with 
Ikey's  switchboard,  because  he  could  wrap 
his  system  around  more  Indian  laughing- juice 
without  getting  lit  up  than  any  other  man  in 
the  world. 

But  Ikey  was  the  compliments  of  the  season, 
all  right,  all  right. 


Ikey  had  spent  most  of  his  life  being  a 
Bookmaker,  and  when  the  racing  game  went 
out  of  fashion  he  sat  down  and  tried  to  think 
what  else  he  could  do.  Nothing  occurred  to 
him  until  one  day  he  discovered  that  he  could 
push  his  feet  around  in  time  to  music,  so  he 
became  a  dancing  instructor  and  could  clean 
up  $1,000  per  day  if  the  bartenders  didn't 
beckon  too  hard. 

The  luncheon  had  been  ordered  and  Bunch 
was  just  about  to  switch  the  conversation 
around  to  the  subject  of  rebates  when  sud- 
denly his  eyes  took  on  the  appearance  of  sauc- 
ers, and  tapping  me  on  the  arm  he  gasped, 
"Look!" 


ABOUT    A    TANGO    LESSON        15 

I  looked,  and  beheld  Peaches,  Alice  and 
Aunt  Martha  sailing  over  in  our  direction. 

With  a  whispered  admonition  to  Bunch  to 
keep  Ikey  still,  I  went  forward  to  meet  friend 
wife,  her  aunt  and  Alice. 

They  were  as  much  surprised  as  I  was. 

"It  was  such  a  delightful  day  that  Aunt 
Martha  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  to  do  a 
little  shopping,"  Peaches  rattled  on ;  "and  then 
we  decided  to  come  here  for  a  bit  of  lunch- 
eon— hello,  Bunch!  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you! 
John,  hadn't  we  better  take  another  table  so 
that  your  friendly  conference  may  not  be 
interrupted?" 

I  hastened  to  assure  Peaches  that  it  wasn't 
a  conference  at  all.  We  had  met  Mr.  Schwartz 


16  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

quite  by  accident.  Then  I  introduced  Ikey 
to  the  ladies. 

He  got  up  and  did  something  that  was  sup- 
posed to  be  a  bow,  but  you  couldn't  tell 
whether  he  was  tying  his  shoe  or  coming 
down  a  stepladder. 

When  Ikey  tried  to  bend  a  Society  double 
he  looked  like  one  of  the  pictures  that  goes 
with  a  rubber  exerciser,  price  75  cents. 

After  they  had  ordered  club  sandwiches  and 
coffee  I  explained  to  Peaches  and  the  others 
that  Mr.  Schwartz  was  a  real  estate  dealer. 
Ikey  began  to  swell  up  at  once. 

"Bunch  and  I  are  going  in  a  little  deal  with 
Mr.  Schwartz,"  I  explained.  "He  knows  the 
real  estate  business  backwards.  Mr.  Schwartz 


ABOUT    A    TANGO    LESSON        17 

has  a  fad  for  collecting  apartment  houses.  He 
owns  the  largest  assortment  of  People  Coops 
in  the  city.  All  the  modern  improvements, 
too.  Hot  and  cold  windows,  running  gas  and 
noiseless  janitors.  Mr.  Schwartz  is  the  in- 
ventor of  the  idea  of  having  two  baths  in 
every  apartment  so  that  the  lessee  will  have 
less  excuse  for  not  being  water  broke." 

Ikey  never  cracked  a  smile. 

"In  Mr.  Schwartz's  apartment  houses,"  I 
continued,  while  Bunch  kicked  my  shins  under 
the  table,  "you  will  find  self-freezing  refrig- 
erators and  self-leaving  servants.  All  the 
rooms  are  light  rooms,  when  you  light  the 
gas.  Two  of  his  houses  overlook  the  Park 
and  all  of  them  overlook  the  building  laws. 


18  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

The  floors  are  made  of  concrete  so  that  if 
you  want  to  bring  a  horse  in  the  parlor  you 
can  do  so  without  kicking  off  the  plaster  in 
the  flat  below.  Every  room  has  folding  doors, 
and  when  the  water  pipes  burst  the  janitor 
has  folding  arms." 

"Quit  your  joshing,  John!  you'll  embarrass 
Mr.  Schwartz,"  laughed  Bunch  somewhat 
nervously,  but  Ikey's  grin  never  flickered. 

"Is  Mr.  Schwartz  deaf  and  dumb?"  Peaches 
whispered. 

"Intermittently  so,"  I  whispered  back; 
"sometimes  for  hours  at  a  time  he  cannot 
speak  a  word  and  can  hear  only  the  loudest 
tones." 

Aunt  Martha  heard  my  comment  on  Ikey's 


ABOUT    A    TANGO    LESSON        19 

infirmity  and  was  about  to  become  intensely 
sympathetic  and  tell  him  how  her  brother's 
wife  was  cured  when  Bunch  interrupted 
loudly  by  asking  after  Uncle  Peter's  health. 

"Never  better,"  answered  Aunt  Martha. 
"He  has  spent  all  the  morning  arranging  the 
program  of  dancing  for  our  little  party.  He 
insists  upon  having  the  Virginia  Reel,  the  old- 
fashioned  waltz,  the  Polka  and  the  Lancers. 
Uncle  Peter  has  a  perfect  horror  of  these 
modern  dances  and  Peaches  and  Alice  and  I 
share  it  with  him."  Then  she  turned  to  Ikey : 
"Don't  you  think  these  modern  dances  are 
perfectly  disgusting?" 

Poor  Ikey  looked  reproachfully  at  the  old 
lady  a  second,  then  with  gathering  astonish- 


20  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

ment  he  slid  silently  off  the  chair  and  struck 
the  floor  with  a  bump. 

Aunt  Martha  was  so  rattled  over  this  unex- 
pected effort  on  Mr.  Schwartz's  part  that  she 
upset  her  coffee  and  Ikey  got  most  of  it  in 
the  back  of  the  neck. 

When  peace  was  finally  restored  the  old 
lady  came  to  the  surface  with  an  envelope 
which  had  been  lying  on  the  table  near  her 
plate. 

"Is  this  your  letter,  John?"  she  asked,  and 
then,  arranging  her  glasses,  read  with  great 
deliberation,  "Mr.  I.  Schwartz,  Tango  Teach- 
er, care  of  Kumearly  and  Staylates'  Cabaret, 
New  York." 


ABOUT   A    TANGO    LESSON        21 

Peaches  and  Alice  went  into  the  ice  busi- 
ness right  away  quick. 

Aunt  Martha,  in  pained  surprise,  looked  at 
me  and  then  at  Bunch,  and  finally  focused  a 
steady  beam  of  interrogation  upon  the  coun- 
tenance of  Mr.  Schwartz. 

Ikey  never  whimpered. 

Then  Bunch  took  the  letter  from  the  open- 
eyed  Aunt  Martha  and  leaped  to  the  rescue 
while  I  came  out  of  the  trance  slowly. 

"It's  too  bad  Mr.  Schwartz  forgot  his  ear 
trumpet,"  Bunch  said  quickly,  and  Ikey  was 
wise  to  the  tip  in  a  minute. 

Peaches  sniffed  suspiciously,  and  I  knew 
she  had  the  gloves  on. 

"Mr.  Schwartz's  affliction  is  terrible,"  she 


22  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

said  with  a  chill  in  every  word.  "How  did 
yovi  converse  with  him  before  our  arrival?" 

"Oh!  he  understands  the  lip  language  and 
can  talk  back  on  his  fingers,"  I  hastened  to  ex- 
plain, looking  hard  at  Ikey,  whose  masklike 
face  gave  no  token  that  he  understood  what 
was  going  on. 

"I  thought  I  understood  you  to  say  Mr. 
Schwartz  is  a  real  estate  dealer!"  Peaches 
continued,  while  the  thermometer  went  lower 
and  lower. 

"So  he  is,"  I  replied. 

"Then  why  does  his  correspondent  address 
him  as  a  Tango  Teacher?"  friend  wife  said 
slowly,  and  I  could  hear  the  icebergs  grinding 
each  other  all  around  me. 


ABOUT    A    TANGO    LESSON        23 

"I  think  I  can  explain  that,"  Bunch  put  in 
quietly.  Then  with  the  utmost  deliberation 
he  looked  Ikey  in  the  eye  and  said,  "Mr. 


Schwartz,  it's  really  none  of  my  business, 
but  would  you  mind  telling  me  why  you,  a  real 
estate  dealer,  should  have  a  letter  in  your 
possession  which  is  addressed  to  you  as  a 
Tango  Teacher?  Answer  me  on  your  fingers." 
Ikey  delivered  the  goods. 


In  a  minute  he  had  both  paws  working 
overtime  and  such  a  knuckle  twisting  no  mor- 
tal man  ever  indulged  in  before. 

"He  says,"  Bunch  began  to  interpret,  "that 
the  letter  is  not  his.  It  is  intended  for  Isa- 
dore  Schwartz,  a  wicked  cousin  of  his  who  is 
a  victim  of  the  cabaret  habit.  Mr.  Schwartz 
is  now  complaining  bitterly  with  his  fingers 
because  his  letters  and  those  intended  for  his 
renegade  cousin  become  mixed  almost  every 
day.  These  mistakes  are  made  because  the 
initials  are  identical.  He  also  says  that — he 

—  hopes  —  the  —  presence  —  of  —  this  — 
particular  —  letter  —  in  —  his  —  possession 

—  does  —  not  —  offend  —  the  —  ladies  — 
because  —  while  —  it  —  is  —  addressed  — 


ABOUT    A    TANGO    LESSON        25 

to  —  a  —  tango-teacher  —  the  —  contents  — 
are  —  quite  —  harmless  —  being  —  but  — 
a  —  small  —  bill  —  from  —  the  —  dentist." 

Ikey's  fingers  kept  on  working  nervously, 
as  though  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  wear  them  out, 
and  the  perspiration  rolled  off  poor  Bunch's 
forehead. 

'Tell  him  to  cease  firing,"  I  said  to  Bunch; 
"he'll  sprain  his  fingers  and  lose  his  voice." 

Ikey  doubled  up  all  his  eight  fingers  and 
two  thumbs  in  one  final  shout  and  subsided. 

"I'm  afraid  we'll  miss  the  5.18  train  if  we 
don't  hurry,"  said  Peaches,  and  I  could  see 
that  the  storm  was  over,  although  she  still 
glanced  suspiciously  at  poor  Ikey. 


26  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

"And,  Bunch,  you  and  John  can  come  home 
with  us  now,  can't  you?"  Alice  asked  as  they 
started  to  float  for  the  door. 

Then  Ikey  cut  in  as  we  started  to  follow 
the  family  parade,  "I'm  hep  to  the  situation. 
It's  a  cutey,  take  it  from  little  Ikey.  I'll  have 
to  charge  you  $8  for  the  sudden  attack  of 
deafness;  then  there's  $19  for  hardships  sus- 
tained by  my  finger  joints  while  conversing. 
The  rest  of  the  100  iron  men  I'm  going  to 
keep  as  a  souvenir  of  two  good-natured  ginks 
who  wouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  a  Tango 
if  they  had  one." 

As  we  pulled  out  of  the  Mayonnaise  Man- 
sion I  looked  back  at  Ikey  to  thank  him  with 
a  farewell  nod. 


ABOUT    A    TANGO    LESSON         27 

He  was  halfway  under  the  table,  holding 
both  hands  to  his  sides  and  making  funny 
faces  at  the  carpet. 


CHAPTER   II 

YOU    SHOULD    WORRY   ABOUT   AN   AUTOMOBILE 

SAY!   did  you   ever  have  to  leave  the 
soothing  influence  of  your  own  rattling 
radiators  in  the  Big  City  and  go  romp- 
ing  off   to   a   rich   relation's   for  the 
week-end  ? 

Well,  don't  do  it,  if  you  can  help  it,  and  if 
you  can't  help  it  get  back  home  as  soon  as 
possible. 

When   Uncle   Gilbert   Hawley   sent   us   an 

invitation  to   run  up  to  Hawleysville  for   a 

day  or  two  I  looked  at  Peaches  and  she  looked 

at  me — then  we  both  looked  out  the  window. 

We  knew  what  a  wildly  hilarious  time  we'd 

28 


ABOUT   AN   AUTOMOBILE         29 

have  splashing  out  small  talk  to  the  collection 
of  human  bric-a-brac  always  to  be  found  at 
Uncle  Gilbert's,  but  what  is  one  going  to  do 
when  the  richest  old  gink  in  the  family  waves 
a  beckoning  arm? 

I'll  tell  you  what  one  is  going  to  do — one  is 
going  to  take  to  one's  o'sullivans,  beat  it 
rapidly  to  a  choo-choo,  and  float  into  Uncle 
Gilbert's  presence  with  a  business  of  being 
tickled  to  death — that's  what  one  is  going 
to  do. 

You  know  Nature  has  a  few  immutable 
laws,  and  one  is  that  even  a  rich  old  uncle 
must  in  the  full  course  of  time  pass  on  and 
leave  nephews  and  nieces.  Leave  them  what? 
Ah!  that's  it!  Where's  that  timetable? 


30  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

Hawleysville  is  about  forty  miles  away  on 
the  P.  D.  &  Q.,  and  it  is  some  burg.  Uncle 
Gilbert  wrote  it  all  himself. 

Uncle  Gilbert  has  nearly  all  the  money  there 
is  in  the  world.  Every  time  he  signs  a  check 
a  national  bank  goes  out  of  existence.  He 
tried  to  count  it  all  once,  but  he  sprained  nls 
wrists  and  had  to  stop. 

On  the  level,  when  he  goes  into  a  bank  all 
the  government  bonds  get  up  and  yell,  "Hello, 
Papa!" 

When  he  cuts  coupons  it's  like  a  sheep 
shearing. 

He  has  muscles  all  over  him  like  a  prize- 
fighter just  from  lifting  mortgages. 

When   Peaches  and   I   finally  reached   the 


ABOUT    AN    AUTOMOBILE         31 

Hawley  mansion  on  the  hill  we  found  there 
a  scene  of  great  excitement.  Old  and  distant 
lelations  were  bustling  up  and  down  the  stone 
steps,  talking  in  whispers ;  servants  with  scared 
faces  and  popping  eyes  were  peeping  around 
the  corner  of  the  house,  and  in  the  roadway 
in  front  of  a  sobbing  automobile  stood  Uncle 
Gilbert  and  Aunt  Miranda,  made  up  to  look 
like  two  members  of  the  Peary  expedition  at 
the  Pole. 

After  the  formal  greetings  we  were  soon 
put  hep  to  the  facts  in  the  case. 

"You  see,  John,"  bubbled  Aunt  Miranda, 
while  a  pair  of  green  goggles  danced  an  ac- 
companiment on  her  nose,  "your  Uncle  Gilbert 
loaned  the  money  to  a  man  to  open  a  garage 


32  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

in  Hawleysville.  But  automobilists  never  got 
any  blowouts  or  punctures  going  through  here 
because  there  isn't  a  saloon  in  the  town,  so 
the  garage  failed  and  the  man  left  town  in 
an  awful  hurry,  and  all  your  Uncle  Gilbert 
got  for  the  money  he  loaned  was  this  car. 
We've  been  four  years  making  up  our  minds 
to  buy  one  and  now  we  have  one  whether  we 
want  it  or  not." 

"Fine!"  I  said;  "going  out  for  a  spin, 
Uncle  Gilbert?" 

"Possibly,"  he  answered,  never  taking  his 
eyes  off  the  man-killer  in  front  of  him,  which 
stood  there  trembling  with  anger. 

"What  car  is  it?"  I  inquired  politely. 

"It's  a  Seismic,"  Uncle  Gilbert  said. 


33 


"Oh,  yes,  of  course;  made  by  the  Earth- 
quake Brothers  in  Powderville — good  car  for 
the  hills,  especially  coming  down,"  I  volun- 
teered. "Know  how  to  run  it?" 

"I  guess  so;  I  was  always  a  good  hand  at 
machinery,"  Uncle  Gilbert  answered. 

"Don't  you  think  you  should  have  a  chauf- 
feur?" Peaches  suggested. 

"Chauffeur !  Why  ?"  Uncle  Gilbert  snapped 
back;  "what  do  I  want  with  one  of  those  fel- 
lows sitting  around,  eating  me  out  of  house 
and  home." 

Now  you  know  why  he  has  so  much 
money. 

"We'll  be  back  in  a  little  while,"  Aunt  Mi- 


YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 


randa  explained;  "just  make  yourselves  at 
home,  children." 

Uncle  Gilbert  continued  to  eye  the  car  for 
another  minute,  then  he  turned  to  me  and  said, 
"Want  to  try  it,  John?" 

"Nix,  Uncle  Gilbert,"  I  protested;  "what 
would  the  townspeople  say?  You  with  a  new 
motor  car,  afraid  to  run  it  yourself,  had  to 
send  to  New  York  for  your  nephew — nix! 
Where's  your  family  pride?" 

"My  family  pride  is  all  right,"  answered 
Uncle  Gilbert;  "but  there's  a  lot  of  contrap- 
tions in  that  machine  I  don't  seem  to  recog- 
nize." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right;  you're  a  handy  little 
guy  with  machinery,"  I  reminded  him.  "Hop 


ABOUT   AN   AUTOMOBILE         35 

in  now  and  break  forth.  Don't  let  the  public 
think  that  you're  afraid  to  blow  a  Bubble 
through  the  streets  of  your  native  town.  The 
rubber  sweater  buttoned  to  the  chin  and  the 
Dutch  awning  over  the  forehead  for  yours, 
and  on  your  way!" 

Finally  and  reluctantly  Uncle  Gilbert  and 
Aunt  Miranda  climbed  into  the  kerosene 
wagon  and  I  gave  him  his  final  instructions. 

"Now,  Uncle  Gilbert,"  I  said,  "grab  that 
wheel  in  front  of  you  firmly  with  both  hands 
and  put  one  foot  on  the  accelerator.  Now 
put  the  other  foot  on  the  rheostat  and  let  the 
left  elbow  gently  rest  on  the  deodorizer.  Keep 
the  rubber  tube  connecting  with  the  automatic 
fog  whistle  closely  between  the  teeth  and  let 


36  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

the  right  elbow  be  in  touch  with  the  quadru- 
plex  while  the  apex  of  the  left  knee  is  pressed 
over  the  spark  coil  and  the  right  ankle  works 
the  condenser." 

Uncle  Gilbert  grunted.  "Why  don't  you 
put  my  left  shoulder  blade  to  work,"  he  mut- 
tered; "it's  the  only  part  of  my  anatomy  that 
hasn't  got  a  job." 

"John,"  whispered  the  nervous  Aunt  Mi- 
randa, "do  you  really  think  your  Uncle  Gil- 
bert knows  enough  about  the  car?" 

"Sure,"  I  answered,  and  I  was  very  serious 
about  it.  "Now,  Uncle  Gilbert,  keep  both  eyes 
on  the  road  in  front  of  you  and  the  rest  of 
your  face  in  the  wagon.  Start  the  driving 


ABOUT   AN   AUTOMOBILE         37 

wheels,  repeat  slowly  the  name  of  your  favor- 
ite coroner,  and  leave  the  rest  to  Fate!" 

And  away  they  started  in  the  Whiz  Wagon. 

Before  they  had  rolled  along  for  half  a 
mile  through  town  the  machine  suddenly  be- 
gan to  breathe  fast,  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden, 
it  choked  up  and  stopped. 

"Will  it  explode?"  whispered  Aunt  Mi- 
randa, pleadingly. 

"No,"  said  Uncle  Gilbert,  jumping  out;  "I 
think  the  cosmopolitan  has  buckled  with  the 
trapezoid,"  and  then,  with  a  monkey  wrench, 
he  crawled  under  the  hood  to  see  if  the  trouble 
was  stubbornness  or  appendicitis. 

Uncle  Gilbert  took  a  dislike  to  a  brass  valve 
and  began  to  knock  it  with  the  monkey 


38  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

wrench,  whereupon  the  valve  got  mad  at  him 
and  upset  a  pint  of  ancient  salad  oil  all  over 
his  features. 

When  Uncle  Gilbert  recovered  conscious- 
ness the  machine  was  breathing  again,  so  he 
jumped  to  the  helm,  pointed  the  bow  at  Tam- 
pico,  Mex.,  and  began  to  cut  the  grass. 

Alas!  however,  it  seemed  that  the  demon 
of  unrest  possessed  that  Coal-oil  Coupe,  for  it 
soon  began  to  jump  and  skip,  and  suddenly, 
with  a  snort,  it  took  the  river  road  and 
scooted  away  from  town. 

Uncle  Gilbert  patted  it  on  the  back  and 
spoke  soothingly,  but  it  was  no  use. 

Aunt  Miranda  pleaded  with  him  to  keep  in 


ABOUT   AN   AUTOMOBILE         39 

near  the  shore,  because  she  was  getting  sea- 
sick ;  but  her  tears  were  in  vain. 

"You  must  appear  calm  and  indifferent  in 


the  presence  of  danger,"  muttered  Uncle  Gil- 
bert as  they  rushed  madly  into  the  bosom  of  a 
flock  of  cows. 

But  luck  was  with  them,  for  with  a  turn  of 
the  wrist  Uncle  Gilbert  jumped  the  machine 
across  the  road,  and  all  he  could  feel  was  the 


40  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

sharp  swish  of  an  old  cow's  tail  across  his 
cheek  as  they  rushed  on  and  out  of  that  ani- 
mal's life  forever. 

Aunt  Miranda  tried  to  be  brave  and  to  chat 
pleasantly.  "How  is  Wall  Street  these  days  ?" 
she  asked,  and  just  then  the  machine  struck 
a  stone  and  she  went  up  in  the  air. 

"Unsettled,"  answered  Uncle  Gilbert  when 
she  got  back,  and  then  there  was  an  embarrass- 
ing silence. 

To  try  to  hold  a  polite  conversation  on  a 
motor  car  in  full  flight  is  very  much  like  try- 
ing to  repeat  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
while  falling  from  a  seventh-story  window. 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  machine  struck 


ABOUT    AN    AUTOMOBILE         41 

a  chord  in  G,  and  started  for  Newfoundland 
at  the  rate  of  7,000,000  miles  a  minute. 

Aunt  Miranda  threw  her  arms  around  Uncle 
Gilbert's  neck,  he  threw  his  neck  around  the 
lever,  the  lever  threw  him  over,  and  they  both 
threw  a  fit. 

Down  the  road  ahead  of  them  a  man  and 
his  wife  were  quarreling.  They  were  so  much 
in  earnest  that  they  did  not  hear  the  machine 
sneaking  swiftly  up  on  rubber  shoes. 

As  the  Benzine  Buggy  was  about  to  fall 
upon  the  quarreling  man  and  wife  Uncle  Gil- 
bert squeezed  a  couple  of  hoarse  "Toot 
toots"  from  the  horn,  whereupon  the  woman 
in  the  road  threw  up  both  hands  and  leaped 


YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 


for  the  man.  The  man  threw  up  both  feet 
and  leaped  for  the  fence. 

The  last  Aunt  Miranda  saw  of  them  they 
were  entering  their  modest  home  neck  and 
neck,  and  the  divorce  court  lost  a  bet. 

Then  the  machine  began  to  climb  a  tele- 
graph pole,  and  as  it  ran  down  the  other  side 
Aunt  Miranda  wanted  to  know  for  the  tenth 
time  if  it  would  explode. 

"How  did  John  tell  you  to  handle  it?"  she 
shrieked,  as  the  Rowdy  Cart  bit  its  way 
through  a  stone  fence  and  began  to  dance  a 
two-step  over  a  strange  man's  lawn. 

"The  only  way  to  handle  this  infernal  ma- 
chine is  to  soak  it  in  water,"  yelled  Uncle  Gil- 
bert as  they  hit  the  main  road  again. 


ABOUT    AN    AUTOMOBILE         43 

"I  don't  see  what  family  pride  has  to  do 
with  it;  there  isn't  a  soul  looking,"  moaned 
Aunt  Miranda. 

"Oh  if  I  could  only  be  arrested  for  fast 
riding  and  get  this  thing  stopped,"  wailed 
Uncle  Gilbert  as  they  headed  for  the  river. 

"Let  me  out,  let  me  out,"  pleaded  Aunt 
Miranda,  and  the  machine  seemed  to  hear  her, 
for  it  certainly  obliged  the  lady. 

I  found  out  afterwards  that  in  order  to 
make  good  with  Aunt  Miranda  the  machine 
jumped  up  in  the  air  and  turned  a  double 
handspring,  during  the  course  of  which  friend 
Uncle  and  his  wife  fell  out  and  landed  in  the 
most  generous  inclined  mud  puddle  in  that 
part  of  the  state. 


44  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

Then  the  Buzz  Buggy  turned  around  and 
barked  at  them,  and  with  an  excited  wag  of 
its  tail  scooted  for  home  and  left  them  flat. 

Late  that  evening  Uncle  Gilbert  explained 
that  there  would  have  been  no  trouble  at  all 
if  he  had  removed  a  defective  spark  plug. 

But  I  think  if  Uncle  Gilbert  would  go  to 
Dr.  Leiser  and  have  his  parsimony  removed 
he'd  have  more  fun  as  he  breezes  through 
life. 

Peaches  thinks  just  as  I  do,  but  she  won't 
say  it  out  loud — she's  a  fox,  that  Kid. 


CHAPTER    III 

YOU   SHOULD   WORRY  ABOUT   DIETING 

I    WAS  complaining  to  some  of  my  friends 
in  the  Club  the  other  evening  because 
a  germ  General  Villa  had  begun  to  at- 
tack the  outposts  of  my  digestive  tract 
when  a  nut  in  the  party  began  to  slip  me  a 
line  of  talk  about  a  vegetable  diet. 

I  didn't  fall  for  it  until  he  proved  to  me 
that  Kid  Methuselah  had  prolonged  an  other- 
wise uneventful  life  and  was  enabled  to  make 
funny  faces  at  the  undertakers  until  he  reached 
the  age  of  914  simply  because  he  ate  nothing 
but  dandelion  salad,  mashed  potatoes  and 
stewed  prunes. 

45 


46  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

Then  I  went  home  and  told  friend  wife 
about  it.  She  approved  eagerly  because  she 
felt  that  it  might  solve  the  servant  problem. 

Since  we  started  housekeeping  about  eight 
months  ago  we've  averaged  two  cooks  a  week. 
Tuesdays  and  Fridays  are  our  days  for  chang- 
ing chefs.  The  old  cook  leaves  Monday 
evening  and  the  new  cook  arrives  Tuesday 
morning.  Then  the  new  cook  leaves  on 
Thursday  evening  and  the  newest  cook  arrives 
on  Friday,  and  so  on,  world  without  end. 

Friend  wife  decided  she  could  herself  dip 
a  few  parsnips  in  boiling  water  without  the 
aid  of  a  European  kitchen  mechanician. 

Vegetarians !    What  a  great  idea ! 

Now  she  could  get  out  into  the  sunlight 


ABOUT   DIETING  47 

once  in  a  while,  instead  of  standing  forever 
at  the  hall  door  as  a  perpetual  reception  com- 
mittee to  a  frowsy-headed  Slavonian  exile 
demanding  $35  per  and  nix  on  the  washing. 

But  it  was  Friday  and  our  latest  cook  was 
at  that  moment  annoying  the  gas  range  in  the 
kitchen,  so  why  not  experiment  and  find  out 
what  merit  there  is  in  a  vegetarian  menu? 

The  ayes  have  it — send  for  the  Duchess  of 
Dishwater. 

Enter  the  Duchess,  so  proud  and  haughty, 
with  a  rolling  pin  in  one  hand  and  a  guide  to 
the  city  of  New  York  in  the  other.  During 
her  idle  moments  she  studied  the  guide.  Even 
now,  and  only  three  weeks  from  Ellis  Island, 
she  knew  the  city  so  well  that  she  could  go 


48  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

from  one  situation  to  another  with  her  eyes 
closed. 

"Ollie,"    said   friend  wife,   "do  you  know 


how  to  cook  vegetables  in  an  appetizing  man- 
ner?" 

"Of  course,"  answered  Ollie,  her  lips  curl- 
ing disdainfully. 

Then  I  chipped  in  with,  "Very  well,  Ollie; 
the  members  of  this  household  are  vegetarians, 


ABOUT    DIETING  49 

for  the  time  being.  All  of  us  vegetarians,  in- 
cluding the  dog,  so  please  govern  yourself  ac- 
cordingly." 

Ollie  smiled  in  a  broad  Hungarian  manner 
and  whispered  that  vegetarianisms  was  where 
she  lived. 

She  confided  to  us  that  she  could  cook  vege- 
tables so  artistically  that  the  palate  would 
believe  them  to  be  filet  Mignon,  with  cham- 
pagne sauce. 

Then  she  shook  the  rolling  pin  at  a  picture 
of  friend  wife's  grandfather,  and  started  in 
to  fool  the  Beef  Trust  and  put  all  the  butchers 
out  of  business. 

Dinner  time  came  and  we  were  all  ex- 
pectancy. 


50  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

The  first  course  was  potato  soup.  Filling 
but  not  fascinating. 

The  second  course  was  potato  chips,  which 
we  nibbled  slightly  while  we  looked  eagerly 
at  the  butler's  pantry. 

The  next  course  was  French  fried  potatoes 
with  some  shoestring  potatoes  on  the  side,  and 
I  began  to  get  nervous. 

This  was  followed  by  a  dish  of  German 
fried  potatoes,  some  hash-browned  potatoes 
and  some  potato  saute,  whereupon  my  appe- 
tite got  up  and  left  the  room. 

The  next  course  was  plain  boiled  potatoes 
with  the  jackets  on,  and  baked  potatoes  with 
the  jackets  open  at  the  throat,  and  then  some 
roasted  potatoes  with  Bolero  jackets. 


ABOUT    DIETING  51 

I  was  beginning  to  see  that  a  man  must 
have  in  his  veins  the  blood  of  martyrs  and  of 
heroes  to  be  a  vegetarian  and  at  the  same 
time  I  could  feel  myself  fixing  my  fingers  to 
choke  Ollie. 

The  next  course  was  a  large  plate  of  potato 
salad,  and  then  I  fainted. 

When  I  got  back  Ollie  was  standing  near 
the  table  with  a  sweet  smile  on  each  side 
of  her  face,  waiting  for  the  applause  of  those 
present. 

"Have  you  anything  else?"  I  inquired 
hungrily. 

"Oh,  yes !"  said  Ollie.  "I  have  some  potato 
pudding  for  dessert." 

When  I  got   through  swearing  Ollie  was 


52  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

under  the  stove,  my  wife  was  under  the  table, 
the  dog  was  under  the  bed,  and  I  was  under 
the  influence  of  liquor. 

I'm  cured. 

After  this  my  digestive  tract  will  have  to 
fight  a  sirloin  steak  every  time  I  get  hungry. 

Besides,  I  don't  want  to  live  as  long  as 
Methuselah.  If  I  did  I'd  have  to  learn  to 
tango  some  time  in  the  875  years  to  come — 
then  I'd  be  just  the  same  as  everybody  else 
in  the  world. 

Can  you  get  a  flash  of  Methuselah  at  the 
age  of  64  taking  Tango  lessons  from  Baldy 
Sloane  up  at  Weisenfeffer's  pedal  parlors? 
And  then  having  to  survive  for  850  years  with 
the  dance  bug  in  his  dome ! 


ABOUT    DIETING  53 

Close  the  door,  Delia ;  there's  a  draft. 

When  Peaches  recovered  from  the  shock  of 
my  outburst  over  the  potato  pudding  she  said 
the  only  way  I  could  square  myself  was  to 
take  her  to  the  very  latest  up-to-datest  hotel 
in  New  York  for  dinner. 

That  is  some  task  if  you  live  up  town,  be- 
lieve me,  because  they  open  new  hotels  in 
New  York  now  the  same  as  they  open  oys- 
ters— by  the  dozen. 

However,  after  stuffing  my  pockets  with  all 
my  earthly  possessions,  we  hiked  forth  and 
steered  for  the  Builtfast — the  very  latest  thing 
in  expensive  beaneries. 

Directly  we  entered  its  polished  portals  we 
could  see  from  the  faces  of  the  clerks  and 


54  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

the  clocks  that  a  lot  of  money  changed  hands 
before  the  Built  fast  finally  became  an  assess- 
ment center. 

In  the  lobby  the  furniture  was  covered  with 
men  about  town,  who  sat  around  with  a  check- 
book in  each  hand  and  made  faces  at  the  cash 
register. 

There  are  more  bellboys  than  bedrooms  in 
the  hotel.  They  use  them  for  change.  Every 
time  you  give  the  cashier  $15  he  hands  you 
back  $1.50  and  six  bellboys. 

We  took  a  peep  at  the  diamond-backed  din- 
ing-room, and  when  I  saw  the  waiters  refus- 
ing everything  but  certified  checks  in  the  way 
of  a  tip,  I  said  to  Peaches,  "This  is  no  place 


ABOUT    DIETING  55 

for  us!"  But  she  wouldn't  let  go,  and  we 
filed  into  the  appetite  killery. 

A  very  polite  lieutenant  waiter,  with  a  ser- 
geant waiter  and  two  corporal  waiters,  greeted 
us  and  we  gave  the  countersign,  "Abandon 
health,  all  ye  who  enter  here." 

Then  the  lieutenant  waiter  and  his  army 
corps  deployed  by  columns  of  four  and  es- 
corted us  to  the  most  expensive  looking 
trough  I  ever  saw  in  a  dining-room. 

"Peaches,"  I  said  to  friend  wife,  "I'm  doing 
this  to  please  you,  but  after  I  pay  the  check 
it's  me  to  file  a  petition  in  bankruptcy." 

She  just  grinned,  picked  up  the  point-lace 
napkin  and  began  to  admire  the  onyx  fur- 
niture. 


56  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

"Que  souhaitez  vous?"  said  the  waiter, 
bowing  so  low  that  I  could  feel  a  chill  run- 
ning through  my  little  bank  account. 

"I  guess  he  means  you,"  I  whispered  to 
Peaches,  but  she  looked  very  solemnly  at 
the  menu  card  and  began  to  bite  her  lips. 

"Je  suis  tout  a  votre  service,"  the  waiter 
cross-countered  before  I  could  recover,  and 
he  had  me  gasping.  It  never  struck  me  that  I 
had  to  take  a  course  in  French  before  enter- 
ing the  Builtfast  hunger  foundry,  and  there 
I  sat  making  funny  faces  at  the  tablecloth, 
while  friend  wife  blushed  crimson  and  the 
waiter  kept  on  bowing  like  an  animated  jack- 
knife. 

"Say,  Mike !"  I  ventured  after  a  bit,  "tip  us 


ABOUT    DIETING  57 

off  to  a  quiet  bunch  of  eating  that  will  fit  a 
couple  of  appetites  just  out  seeing  the  sights. 
Nothing  that  will  put  a  kink  in  a  year's  in- 
come, you  know,  Bo;  just  suggest  some  little 
thing  that  looks  better  than  it  tastes,  but  is 
not  too  expensive  to  keep  down." 

"Old,  oid!"  His  Marseillaise  came  back  at 
me,  (fun  diner  comfortable  doit  se  composer  de 
potage,  de  volatile  boidllie  ou-rotie,  chaude  ou 
froide,  de  gibier,  de  plats  rares  et  distingues, 
de  poissons,  de  sucreries,  de  patisseries  et  de 
fndts!" 

I  looked  at  my  wife,  she  looked  at  me,  then 
we  both  looked  out  the  window  and  wished  we 
had  never  been  born. 

"Say,  Garsong,"  I  said,  after  we  came  to, 


58  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

"my  wife  is  a  daughter  of  the  American 
Revolution  and  she's  so  patriotic  she  eats  only 
in  United  States,  so  cut  out  the  Moulin  Rouge 
lyrics  and  let's  get  down  to  cases.  How  much 
will  it  set  me  back  if  I  order  a  plain  steak — 
just  enough  to  flirt  with  two  very  polite  ap- 
petites ?" 

"Nine  dollars  and  seventy  cents,"  said  Joan 
of  Arc's  brother  Bill;  "the  seventy  cents  is  for 
the  steak  and  the  nine  dollars  will  help  some 
to  pay  for  the  Looey  the  Fifteenth  furniture 
in  the  bridal  chamber." 

"Save  the  money,  John,"  whispered  Peaches, 
"and  we'll  buy  a  pianola  with  it." 

"How  about  a  sliver  of  roast  beef  with  some 


ABOUT    DIETING  59 

simple  vegetable,"  I  said  to  the  waiter.  "Is  it 
a  bull  market  for  an  order  like  that?" 

"Three  dollars  and  forty-two  cents,"  an- 
swered Henri  of  Navarre;  "forty-two  cents 
for  the  order  and  three  dollars  to  help  pay  for 
the  French  velvet  curtains  in  the  golden  suite 
on  the  second  floor." 

"Keep  on  guessing,  John;  you'll  wear  him 
out,"  Peaches  whispered. 

"Possibly  a  little  cold  lamb  with  a  sugges- 
tion of  potato  salad  on  the  side  might  satisfy 
us,"  I  said;  "make  me  an  estimate." 

"Four  dollars  and  eighteen  cents,"  replied 
Patsey  Boulanger;  "eighteen  cents  for  the 
lamb  and  salad  and  the  four  dollars  for  the 


60  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

Looey  the  Fifteenth  draperies  in  the  drawing- 
room." 

"Ask  him  if  there's  a  bargain  counter  any- 
where in  the  dining-room,"  whispered  Peaches. 

"My  dear,"  I  said  to  friend  wife,  "we  have 
already  displaced  about  sixty  dollars'  worth 
of  space  in  this  dyspepsia  emporium,  and  we 
must,  therefore,  behave  like  gentlemen  and 
order  something,  no  matter  what  the  cost. 
What  are  the  savings  of  a  lifetime  compared 
with  our  honor!" 

The  waiter  bowed  so  low  that  his  shoulder 
blades  cracked  like  a  whip. 

"Bring  us,"  I  said,  "a  plain  omelet  and  one 
dish  of  prunes." 

I  waited  till  Peter  Girofla  translated  this 


ABOUT    DIETING  61 

into  French  and  then  I  added,  "And  on  the 
side,  please,  two  glasses  of  water  and  three 
toothpicks.  Have  the  prunes  fricasseed,  wash 
the  water  on  both  corners,  and  bring  the  tooth- 
picks rare." 

The  waiter  rushed  away  and  all  around  us 
we  could  hear  money  talking  to  itself. 

Fair  women  sat  at  the  tables  picking  dishes 
out  of  the  bill  of  fare  which  brought  the  blush 
of  sorrow  to  the  faces  of  their  escorts.  It 
was  a  wonderful  sight,  especially  for  those 
who  have  a  nervous  chill  every  time  the  gas 
bill  comes  in. 

When  we  ate  our  modest  little  dinner  the 
waiter  presented  a  check  which  called  for  three 
dollars  and  thirty-three  cents. 


62  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

"The  thirty-three  cents  is  for  what  you  or- 
dered," Alexander  J.  Dumas  explained,  "and 
the  three  dollars  is  for  the  French  hangings  in 
the  parlor." 

"Holy  Smoke !"  I  cried ;  "that  fellow  Looey 
the  Fifteenth  has  been  doing  a  lot  of  work 
around  here,  hasn't  he?"  But  the  waiter  was 
so  busy  watching  the  finish  of  the  change  he 
handed  me  that  he  didn't  crack  a  smile. 

Then  I  got  reckless  and  handed  him  a  fifty- 
cent  tip. 

The  waiter  looked  at  the  fifty  cents  and 
turned  pale. 

Then  he  looked  at  me  and  turned  paler. 

He  tried  to  thank  me,  but  he  caught  another 
flash  of  that  plebeian  fifty  and  it  choked  him. 


ABOUT    DIETING  63 

Then  he  took  a  long  look  at  the  half-dollar 
and  with  a  low  moan  he  passed  away. 

In  the  excitement  I  grabbed  Peaches  and 
we  flew  for  home. 

The  next  time  I  go  to  one  of  those  expen- 
sive shacks  it  will  be  just  after  I've  had  a 
hearty  dinner. 

Even  at  that  I  may  change  my  mind  and 
go  to  a  moving  picture  show. 


CHAPTER   IV 

YOU   SHOULD   WORRY   ABOUT   GETTING  A   GOAT 

HEP  HARDY'S  goat  belongs  to  the 
chamois  branch  of  that  famous 
family. 

When  it  gets  out  it  wants  to  leap 
from  crag  to  crag. 

Hep's  chamois  got  loose  recently  and,  be- 
lieve me,  I  never  saw  a  goat  perform  to  bet- 
ter advantage. 

For  a  long  time  Hep  has  been  in  love  with 
Clarissa  Goober,  the  daughter  of  Pop  Goober, 
who  made  millions  out  of  the  Flower-pot 
Trust.  Of  late,  however,  Hep's  course  of 
true  love  has  been  running  for  Sweeney,  and 
64 


ABOUT  GETTING  A   GOAT 


65 


my  old  pal  has  been  staring  at  the  furniture 
and  conversing  with  himself  a  great  deal. 

On  our  way  home  night  before  last  Hep 
and  I  dropped  into  the  Saint  Astormore  for 


a  cocktail,  and  at  a  table  near  us  sat  Pop 
Goober  and  something  else  which  afterwards 
turned  out  to  be  a  Prussian  nobleman — the 
Count  Cheese  von  Cheese. 

When  Hep  got  a  flash  of  these  two  his  goat 
kicked  down  the  door  of  its  box-stall  and  be- 


66  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

gan  cavorting  all  over  the  Western  Hemi- 
sphere. 

"Pipe!"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "pipe  Pop 
Goober  and  the  human  germ  with  him!  It's 
a  titled  foreigner — honest  it  is!  It  can  walk 
and  say,  'Papa!'  And  it  is  trained  to  pick 
out  a  millionaire  father-in-law  at  fifty  paces !" 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Hep?"  I  inquired 
after  the  waiter  had  vamped. 

"Oh,  I'm  wise  to  these  guys  with  the  Gor- 
gonzola  titles  all  wrapped  up  in  pink  tissue 
paper  and  only  $8  in  the  jeans,"  Hep  rumbled, 
with  a  glare  in  the  direction  of  the  Count 
Cheese  von  Cheese. 

"Pop  Goober  certainly  does  make  both  ends 
meet  in  the  lemon  industry,"  he  continued. 


ABOUT  GETTING  A  GOAT         67 

"That  old  gink  is  the  original  Onion  collector 
and  he  spends  his  waking  hours  falling  for 
dead  ones." 

Hep  paused  to  bite  the  froth  off  a  Bronx. 
His  goat  was  at  the  post. 

"That  driblet  is  over  here  to  pick  out  an 
heiress  and  fall  in  love  with  her  because  he 
needs  the  money,"  Hep  growled  as  his  goat 
got  away  in  the  lead.  "Every  steamer  brings 
them  over,  John,  some  incognito,  some  in  dress 
suits,  and  some  in  hoc  signo  vinces,  but  all  of 
them  able  to  pick  out  a  lady  with  a  bank  ac- 
count as  far  as  the  naked  eye  can  see. 

"It's  getting  so  now,  John,  that  an  open- 
face,  stem-winding  American  has  to  kick  four 
Dukes,  eight  Earls,  seven  Counts  and  a  couple 


68  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

of  Princes  off  the  front  steps  every  time  he 
goes  to  call  on  his  sweetheart — if  she  has 
money. 

"When  I  go  down  into  Wall  Street,  John,  I 
find  rich  men  with  the  tears  streaming  down 
their  faces  while  they  are  calling  up  on  the 
telephone  to  see  if  their  daughter,  Gladys,  is 
still  safe  at  home,  where  they  left  her  before 
they  came  down  to  business. 

"Walk  through  a  peachy  palace  of  the  rich 
on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  what  will  you  find? 

"Answer:  You  will  find  a  proud  mother 
bowed  with  a  great  grief,  and  holding  onto  a 
rope  which  is  tied  to  her  daughter's  ankle  to 
prevent  the  latter  from  running  out  on  the 


ABOUT  GETTING  A   GOAT        69 

front  piazza,  and  throwing-  kisses  at  the  titled 
foreigners. 

"You  will  find  these  cheap  skates  every- 
where, John,  rushing  hither  and  thither,  and 
sniffing  the  air  for  the  odor  of  burning 
money." 

Hep's  goat  at  the  quarter  and  going  strong. 

"They're  all  over  the  place,  John,"  he  rushed 
on ;  "the  street  cars  are  full  of  Earls  and  Baro- 
nets, traveling  on  transfers.  There  they  are, 
John,  sitting  in  the  best  seats  and  reading  the 
newspapers  until  an  heiress  jumps  aboard  and 
hands  them  her  address,  with  a  memorandum 
of  her  papa's  bank  account. 

"Then  they  arise  with  the  true  nobility  of 


70  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

motion  and  ask  that  a  day  be  set  for  the  wed- 
ding. 

"Why  should  it  be  thus,  John?  We  have 
laws  in  this  country  to  protect  the  birds  and 
the  trees,  the  squirrels  and  all  animals  except 
those  that  can  be  reached  by  an  automobile, 
but  why  don't  we  have  a  law  to  protect  the 
heiresses  ? 

"Why  are  these  titled  zimboes  permitted  to 
borrow  carfare,  and  come  over  here  and  give 
this  fair  land  a  fit  of  indigestion? 

"Why  are  they  permitted  to  set  their  proud 
and  large  feet  on  the  soil  for  which  our  fore- 
fathers fought  and  bled  for  their  country,  and 
for  which  some  of  us  are  still  fighting  and 


ABOUT  GETTING  A   GOAT        71 

bleeding  the  country?  Why?  Why  do  these 
fat-heads  come  over  here  with  a  silver  cigar- 
ette case  and  a  society  directory  and  make 
every  rich  man  in  the  country  fasten  a  burglar 
alarm  to  his  checkbook?" 

Hep's  goat  at  the  half  by  a  length. 

"A  few  days  ago,  John,  one  of  these  mutts 
with  an  Edam  title  jumped  off  an  ocean  liner, 
and  immediately  the  price  of  padlocks  rose  to 
the  highest  point  ever  known  on  the  Stock 
Exchange. 

"All  over  the  country  rich  men  with  ro- 
mantic daughters  rushed  to  and  fro  and  then 
rushed  back  again.  They  were  up  against  a 
crisis.  If  you  could  get  near  enough  to  the 


72  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

long-distance  telephone,  John,  you  could  hear 
one  rich  old  American  guy  shrieking  the  battle- 
cry  to  another  captain  of  industry  out  in  Indi- 
anapolis: 'To  arms!  The  foe!  The  foe! 
He  comes  with  nothing  but  his  full  dress  suit 
and  a  blank  marriage  license !  To  arms !  To 
arms!" 

Hep's  goat  at  the  three-quarters  by  two 
lengths. 

"Why,  John,"  he  exploded  again,  "every 
telegraph  wire  in  the  country  is  sizzling  with 
excitement.  Despatches  which  would  make 
your  blood  curdle  with  anguish  and  sorrow 
for  the  rich  are  flying  all  over  the  country. 
Something  like  this : 


ABOUT  GETTING  A   GOAT        73 

"  'Boston.     To-day. 

"  'At  ten-thirty  this  morning  Rudolph  Os- 
car Grabbitall,  the  millionaire  stone-breaker, 
read  the  startling  news  that  a  foreign  Count 
had  just  landed  in  New  York.  His  suffering 
was  pathetic.  His  daughter,  Gasolene  Pana- 
tella,  who  will  inherit  $19,000,000,  mostly  in 
bonds,  stocks  and  newspaper  talk,  was  in  the 
dental  parlor  five  blocks  away  from  home 
when  the  blow  fell.  Calling  his  household 
about  him,  Mr.  Grabbitall  rushed  into  the 
dental  parlor,  beat  the  dentist  down  with  his 
bill,  dragged  Gasolene  Panatella  home  and 
locked  her  up  in  the  rear  cupboard  of  the 
spare  room  on  the  second  floor  of  the  man- 
sion. Her  teeth  suffered  somewhat,  but,  thank 


74  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

Heaven !  her  money  will  remain  in  this  coun- 
try. The  community  breathes  easier,  but  all 
the  incoming  trains  are  being  watched.' 

"Are  you  wise,  John,  to  what  the  pan- 
handling nobility  of  Europe  are  doing  to  our 
dear  United  States? 

"They  are  putting  all  our  millionaires  on 
the  fritz,  that's  what  they're  doing." 

Hep's  goat  in  the  stretch,  under  wraps. 

"Le'me  *tell  you  something,  John ;  it  will 
soon  come  to  pass  that  the  heiress  will  have 
to  be  locked  up  in  the  safe  deposit  vaults  with 
papa's  bank  book.  Here  is  an  item  from  one 
of  our  most  prominent  newspapers.  Get  this, 
John: 


ABOUT  GETTING  A   GOAT         75 

"  'Long  Island  City.  Now. 
"  Tinchem  Shortface,  the  millionaire  who 
made  a  fortune  by  inventing  a  way  to  open 
clams  by  steam,  has  determined  that  no  for- 
eign Count  will  marry  his  daughter,  Sudsetta. 
She  will  inherit  about  $193,000,000,  about 
$18  of  which  is  loose  enough  to  spend.  The 
unhappy  father  is  building  a  spite  fence  around 
his  mansion,  which  will  be  about  twenty-two 
feet  high,  and  all  the  unmarried  millionaires 
without  daughters,  to  speak  of,  will  contribute 
broken  champagne  bottles  to  put  on  top  of 
the  fence.  If  the  Count  gets  Sudsetta  he  is 
more  of  a  sparrow  than  her  father  thinks 
he  is.' 


76  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

"It's  pitiful,  John,  that's  what  it  is,  pitiful ! 
All  over  the  country  rich  men  are  dropping 
their  beloved  daughters  in  the  cyclone  cellars 
and  hiding  mamma's  stocking  with  the  money 
in  it  out  in  the  hay  loft. 

"I  am  glad,  John,  that  I  am  not  a  rich  man 
with  a  daughter  who  is  eating  her  heart  out 
for  a  moth-covered  title  and  a  castle  on  the 
Rhinewine. 

"You  can  bet,  John,  that  no  daughter  of 
mine  can  ever  marry  a  tall  gent  with  a  nose 
like  the  rear  end  of  an  observation  car  and  a 
knowledge  of  the  English  language  which 
doesn't  get  beyond  I  O  U — do  you  get  me  ?" 

Hep's  goat  wins  in  a  walk. 


ABOUT  GETTING  A  GOAT        77 

"Are  you  all  through,  Hep?"  I  inquired 
feebly. 

"I'm  not  through — but  I'll  take  a  recess,"  he 
snapped  back  at  me. 

"By  the  way,"  I  said,  offhand  like,  "is 
Clarissa  Goober  in  town?" 

"Yes,  but  she  sails  for  Europe  to-morrow 
on  the  Imperator,"  he  answered  sullenly. 

"Oh,"  I  said;  "who's  going  with  her?" 

"The  Count  Cheese  von  Cheese." 

"Oh!" 

Long  pause. 

"Let's  have  another  Bronx,"  I  suggested. 

Hep  took  six — one  for  himself  and  five  for 
the  goat. 

Can  you  blame  him? 


\ 


CHAPTER   V 

YOU  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  BEING  IN  LOVE 

SAY!  have  you  ever  noticed  that  when  a 
gink  with  an  aluminum  headpiece   is 
handed  the  "This- Way-Out"  signal  by 
his  adored  one,  he  either  hikes  for  a 
pickle  parlor  and  begins  to  festoon  his  system 
with  hops,  or  he  stands  in  front  of  a  hardware 
store  and  gazes  gloomily  at  the  guns? 

You  haven't  noticed  it!  Why,  you  aston- 
ish me. 

Friend  wife  met  me  by  appointment  to  take 
dinner  at  the  Saint  Astormore  the  other  even- 
ing and  with  her  was  her  little  brother, 
Stephen,  aged  nine. 

78 


ABOUT    BEING    IN    LOVE          79 

"I  brought  Stevie  with  me  because  I  had 
some  shopping  to  do  and  he's  so  much  com- 
pany," Peaches  explained  as  we  sat  down  in 
the  restaurant. 

"Stevie  is  always  pleasant  company,"  I 
agreed,  politely,  but  with  a  watchful  eye  on 
my  youthful  brother-in-law  all  the  while. 

That  kid  was  born  with  an  abnormal  bump 
of  mischief  and,  by  painstaking  endeavor,  he 
has  won  the  world's  championship  as  an  or- 
ganizer of  impromptu  riots. 

"Oh,  John !"  said  Peaches,  when  I  began  to 
make  faces  at  the  menu  card,  "I  didn't  notice 
until  now  how  pale  you  look.  Have  you  had  a 
busy  day?" 

"Busy!"   I    repeated;   "well,    rather.      I've 


80  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

been  giving  imitations  of  a  bull  fight.  Every- 
body I  met  was  the  bull  and  I  was  the  fight. 
Nominate  your  eats!  What'll  it  be,  Stevie?" 

"Sponge  cake,"  said  Stephen,  promptly.* 

"What  else?"  asked  Peaches. 

"More  sponge  cake,"  the  youth  replied,  and 
just  then  the  smiling  and  sympathetic  waiter 
stooped  down  to  pick  up  a  fork  Stephen  had 
dropped. 

In  his  anxiety  not  to  miss  anything,  Stevie 
rubbered  acrobatically  with  the  result  that  he 
upset  a  glass  of  ice  water  down  the  waiter's 
neck,  and  three  seconds  later  the  tray-trotter 
had  issued  an  Extra  and  was  saying  things  in 
French  that  would  sound  scandalous  if  trans- 
lated. 


ABOUT    BEING   IN    LOVE         81 

It  cost  me  a  dollar  to  bring  the  dish-drag-- 
ger  back  to  earth,  and  Stevie  said  I  could 
break  his  bank  open  when  we  got  home  and 
take  all  the  money  if  I'd  let  him  do  it  again. 

Just  then  I  got  a  flash  of  Dike  Lawrence 
bearing  down  in  our  direction  under  a  full 
head  of  benzine. 

Dike  was  escorting  a  three  days'  jag  and 
whispering  words  of  encouragement  to  it. 

A  good  fellow,  Dike,  but  he  shouldn't  per- 
mit a  distillery  to  use  his  thirst  as  a  testing 
station — he's  too  temperamental. 

"H'ar'ye,  Mrs.  John?"  he  gurgled  as  the 
waiter  pushed  an  extra  chair  under  him. 
"Howdy,  John?  How  de  do,  little  man! 
'Scuse  me  for  int'rupting  a  perf'ly  splendid 


82  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

family  party — my  mistake ! — I'm  all  in — that's 
it — I'm  all  in  and  it's  your  fault,  John ;  all  your 
fault!" 

"What's  wrong,  Dike  ?"  I  inquired. 

"Ev' thing!"  he  martinied;  "ev'thing  all 
wrong — lesh  have  drink — my  mistake — didn't 
think  of  it  before.  Your  little  son  growing  to 
be  a  splendid  boy,  Mrs.  John!" 

"This  is  Stephen,  my  little  brother,  not  my 
little  son,"  Peaches  explained;  "we  haven't 
any  children,"  she  added  nervously. 

Dike  carefully  closed  one  eye  and  focussed 
the  other  on  her.  "Haven't  any  little  son — 
my  mistake !"  Then  he  turned  the  open  gig- 
lamp  on  me  and  began  again.  "S'prised  at 
you,  John;  little  son  is  the  most  won'erful 


ABOUT    BEING    IN    LOVE          83 

thing  any  father  and  mother  could  possess 
with  the  possible  'ception  of  a  li'l  daughter — 
ain't  that  so,  Mrs.  John?  Little  brother  is  all 
right,  but  don't  compare  with  little  son.  Look 
at  me,  Mrs.  John ;  cnn't  ever  have  little  son — 
when  I  think  about  it  I  could  bust  right  out 
cryin' — Grief  has  made  me  almost  hystalical, 
hysterical,  hystollified — I  mean,  I'm  nervous 
— lesh  have  drink!" 

"What's  gone  wrong,  Dike?"  I  asked ;  "each 
minute  you  look  more  and  more  like  Mona 
Lisa  without  the  smile — what's  the  trouble?" 

"All  your  fault,  John,"  he  plunged  on  again. 
"Most  bew'ful  girl  she  was,  Mrs.  John;  per  fly 
bew'ful,  with  won'erful  gray  hair  and  golden 
eyes,  perfly  bew'ful  girl.  I  told  your  hus- 


84  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

ban'  all  about  her — I  made  confession  that  I 
was  madly  in  love  with  this  bew'ful  girl,  and 
your  husban'  told  me  to  go  and  propose  to  her 
and  drag  her  off  to  a  minister — and  I  did  pro- 
pose— my  mistake.  After  I  made  my  speech 
she  said  to  me,  this  bew'ful  girl  said  to  me, 
'That's  all  right;  no  doubt  you  do  love  me, 
but  are  you  eugenic?'  and  I  said,  'No,  I'm 
Presbyterian.' ' 

Dike  paused  to  let  the  horror  of  the  scene 
sink  in  and  then  he  fell  overboard  again  with 
a  moist  splash. 

"That  bew'ful  girl  jus'  glanced  at  me  coldly 
— jus'  merely  indicated  the  door,  that  bew'ful 
girl,  and  I  passed  out  of  her  life  f'rever.  Two 
days  later  I  found  out  jus'  what  eugenic 


ABOUT    BEING    IN    LOVE          85 

meant,  and,  b'lieve  me,  from  my  heart,  my 
sincere  regret  is  that  I  was  not  college  bred 
before  I  met  that  bew'ful  girl!" 

Saying  this  he  grabbed  a  wine-glass  from 
the  table  and  held  it  close  to  his  heart  in  order 
to  illustrate  the  intensity  of  his  feeling. 

The  next  instant  a  thick,  reddish  liquid  be- 
gan to  flow  sluggishly  over  the  bosom  of  his 
immaculate  white  shirt  and  was  lost  in  the 
region  of  his  equator,  seeing  which  Dike  gave 
vent  to  a  yell  that  brought  the  waiters  on  the 
hot  foot. 

"I'm  stabbed ;  stabbed !"  groaned  the  startled 
jag-carpenter,  clutching  wildly  at  his  shirt- 
front  as  the  plate-passers  bore  him  away  to  a 
haven  of  rest. 


86  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

"It's  my  clam  cocktail,"  whispered  Stephen 
to  me;  "I  poured  it  in  his  wine-glass  'cause 
they  was  too  much  tobascum  sauce  in  it  for 
me!" 

"Brave  boy!"  I  answered.  "It  was  a  kindly 
deed." 

Then  we  finished  our  dinner  in  all  the  re- 
fined silence  the  Saint  Astormore  so  carefully 
furnishes. 

Dike's  sad  story  of  misplaced  affection  and 
an  unused  dictionary  puts  us  wise  to  the  fact 
that  in  these  changeful  days  even  the  old- 
fashioned  idea  of  courtship  has  been  chased  to 
the  woods. 

It  used  to  be  that  on  a  Saturday  evening  the 
Young  Gent  would  draw  down  his  six  dollars 


ABOUT   BEING    IN   LOVE          87 

worth  of  salary  and  chase  himself  to  the  bar- 
ber shop,  where  the  Bolivian  lawn  trimmer 
would  put  a  crimp  in  his  mustache  and  plaster 
his  forehead  with  three  cents  worth  of  hair 
and  a  dollar's  worth  of  axle-grease. 

Then  the  Young  Gent  would  go  out  and 
spread  40  cents  around  among  the  tradesmen 
for  a  mess  of  water-lilies  and  a  bag  of  peanut 
brittle. 

The  lilies  of  the  valley  were  to  put  on  the 
dining-table  so  mother  would  be  pleased,  and  - 
with  the  peanut  brittle  he  intended  to  fill  in 
the  weary  moments  when  he  and  his  little 
geisha  girl  were  not  making  goo-goo  eyes  at 
each  other. 

But  nowadays  it  is  different. 


88  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

What  with  eugenics  and  the  high  speed  of, 
living  Dan  Cupid  spends  most  of  his  time  on 
the  hot  foot  between  the  coroner's  office  and 
the  divorce  court. 

Nowadays  when  a  clever  young  man  goes 
to  visit  his  sweetheart  he  hikes  over  the  streets 
in  a  benzine  buggy,  and  when  he  pulls  the  bell- 
rope  at  the  front  door  he  has  a  rapid-fire  re- 
volver in  one  pocket  and  a  bottle  of  carbolic 
acid  in  the  other. 

His  intentions  are  honorable  and  he  wishes 
to  prove  them  so  by  shooting  his  lady  love,  if 
she  renigs  when  he  makes  a  play  for  her  hand. 

I  think  the  old  style  was  the  best,  because 
when  young  people  quarreled  they  didn't  need 


89 


an  ambulance  and  a  hospital  surgeon  to  help 
them  make  up. 

In  the  old  days  Simpson  Green  would  draw 
the  stove  brush  cheerfully  across  his  dog-skin 
shoes  and  rush  with  eager  feet  to  see  Lena 
Jones,  the  girl  he  wished  to  make  the  wife  of 
his  bosom. 

"Darling!"  Simpson  would  say,  "I  am  sure 
to  the  bad  for  love  of  you.  Pipe  the  downcast 
droop  in  this  eye  of  mine  and  notice  the  way 
my  heart  is  bubbling  over  like  a  bottle  of  sar- 
saparilla  on  a  hot  day!  Be  mine,  Lena!  be 
mine !" 

Then  Lena  would  giggle.  Not  once,  but 
seven  giggles,  something  like  those  used  in  a 
spasm. 


90  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

Then  she  would  reply,  "No,  Simpson;  it 
cannot  be.  Fate  wills  it  otherwise." 

Then  Simpson  would  bite  his  finger-nails, 
pick  his  hat  up  out  of  the  coal-scuttle,  and  say 
to  Lena,  "False  one!  You  love  Conrad,  the 
floorwalker  in  the  butcher  shop.  Curses  on 
Conrad,  and  see  what  you  have  missed,  Lena. 
I  have  tickets  for  a  swell  chowder  party  next 
Tuesday.  Ah!  farewell  forever!" 

Then  Simpson  would  walk  out  and  hunt  up 
one  of  those  places  that  can't  get  an  all-night 
license  and  there,  with  one  arm  glued  tight 
around  the  bar  rail,  he  would  fasten  his  sys- 
tem to  a  jag  which  would  last  a  week. 

Despair  would  grab  him  and,  like  Dike,  he'd 
be  Simpson  with  the  souse  thing  for  sure. 


ABOUT    BEING   IN   LOVE          91 

When  he  would  recover  strength  enough  to 
walk  down  town  without  attracting  the  atten- 
tion of  the  other  side  of  the  street,  he  would 
call  on  Lena  and  say,  "Lena,  forgive  me  for 
what  I  done,  but  love  is  blind — and,  besides,  I 
mixed  my  drinks.  Lena,  I  was  on  the  down- 
ward path,  and  I  nearly  went  to  Heligoland." 

Then  Lena  would  say,  "Oh,  Simpsey,  I 
wanted  you  to  prove  your  love,  but  I  thought 
you'd  prove  it  with  beer  and  not  red-eye — for- 
give me,  darling!" 

Then  they  would  kiss  and  make  up,  and  the 
wedding  bells  would  ring  just  as  soon  as 
Simp's  salary  grew  large  enough  to  tease  a 
pocketbook. 


92  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

But  these  days  the  idea  is  altogether  dif- 
ferent. 

Children  are  hardly  out  of  the  cradle  be- 
fore they  are  arrested  for  butting  into  the 
speed  limit  with  a  smoke  wagon. 

Even  when  they  go  courting  they  have  to 
play  to  the  gallery. 

Nowadays  Gonsalvo  H.  Puffenlotz  walks 
into  the  parlor  to  see  Miss  Imogene  Cordelia 
Hoffbrew. 

"Wie  geht's,  Imogene!"  says  Gonsalvo. 

"Simlich!"  says  Imogene,  standing  at  right 
angles  near  the  piano  because  she  thinks  she 
is  a  Gibson  girl. 

"Imogene,  dearest,"  Gonsalvo  continues ;  "I 
called  on  your  papa  in  Wall  Street  yesterday 


ABOUT    BEING   IN   LOVE          93 

to  find  out  how  much  money  you  have,  but  he 
refused  to  name  the  sum,  therefore  you  have 
untold  wealth !" 

Gonsalvo  pauses  to  let  the  Parisian  clock  on 
the  mantle  tick,  tick,  tick! 

He  is  making  the  bluff  of  his  life,  you  see, 
and  he  has  to  do  even  that  on  tick. 

Besides,  this  furnishes  the  local  color. 

Then  Gonsalvo  bursts  forth  again,  "Imo- 
gene!  Oh!  Imogene!  will  you  be  mine  and  I 
will  be  thine  without  money  and  without  the 
price." 

Gonsalvo  pauses  to  let  this  idea  get  noised 
about  a  little. 

Then  he  goes  on,  "Be  mine,  Imogene !    You 


YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 


will  be  minus  the  money  while  I  will  have  the 
price !" 

Gonsalvo  trembles  with  the  passion  which  is 


consuming  his  pocketbook,  and  then  Imogene 
turns  languidly  from  a  right  angle  triangle 
into  more  of  a  straight  front  and  hands  Gon- 
salvo a  bitter  look  of  scorn. 


ABOUT    BEING    IN   LOVE          95 

Then  Gonsalvo  grabs  his  revolver  and,  aim- 
ing it  at  her  marble  brow,  exclaims,  "Marry 
me  this  minute  or  I  will  shoot  you  in  the  top- 
knot, because  I  love  you." 

Then  papa  rushes  into  the  room  and  Gon- 
salvo politely  requests  the  old  gentleman  to 
hold  two  or  three  bullets  for  him  for  a  few 
moments. 

Gonsalvo  then  bites  deeply  into  a  bottle  of 
carbolic  acid  and,  just  as  the  Coroner  climbs 
into  the  house,  the  pictures  of  the  modern 
lover  and  loveress  appear  in  the  newspapers, 
and  fashionable  society  receives  a  jolt. 

This  is  the  new  and  up-to-date  way  of  mak- 
ing love. 


96  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

However,  I  think  the  old  style  of  courting  is 
the  best,  because  you  can  generally  stop  a  jag 
before  it  gets  to  the  undertaker. 

What  do  you  think? 


CHAPTER  VI 

YOU  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  SNAP  SHOTS 

WHEN    Aunt    Martha  gave   friend 
wife  that  newfangled  camera  this 
Spring  I  had  a  hunch  that  the 
dealers  in  photographic  supplies 
would  be  joyously  shrieking  the  return  of  good 
times  and  hot-footing  it  to  the  bank  with  the 
contents  of  my  wallet. 

Peaches  just  grabbed  that  camera  and  went 
after  everybody  and  everything  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

She  took  about  800  views  of  Uncle  Peter's 
country  home  before  she  discovered  that  the 
camera   wasn't   loaded   properly,    which   was 
97 


98     .       YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

tough  on  Peaches  but  good  for  the  bungalow. 

Like  everything  else  in  this  world  picture 
pinching  from  still  life  depends  entirely  on 
the  point  of  view. 

If  your  point  of  view  is  all  right  it's  an 
easy  matter  to  make  a  four-dollar  dog-house 
look  like  the  villa  of  a  Wall  Street  broker  at 
Newport. 

Ten  minutes  after  friend  wife  had  been 
given  the  camera  she  had  me  set  up  as  a  statue 
all  over  Uncle  Peter's  lawn,  and  she  was  snap- 
ping at  me  like  a  Spitz  doggie  at  a  peddler. 

I  sat  for  two  hundred  and  nineteen  pictures 
that  forenoon  and  I  posed  for  every  hero  in 
history,  from  William  the  Conqueror  down 
to  Doctor  Cook,  with  both  feet  in  a  slushy 


ABOUT   SNAP    SHOTS 


99 


little  snowbank  representing  nearly-the-North- 
pole. 

But  when  she  tried  to  coax  me  to  climb  up 
on  a  limb  of  a  tree  and  stay  there  till  she  got 


a  picture  of  me  looking  like  an  owl  I  swore 
softly  in  three  languages,  fell  over  the  back 
fence,  and  ran  for  my  life. 

When  I  rubbershoed  it  back  that  afternoon 
friend  wife  was  busy  developing  her  crimes. 


100  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

The  proper  and  up-to-date  caper  in  connec- 
tion with  taking  snap-shots  these  days  is  to 
buy  a  developing  outfit  and  upset  the  house- 
hold from  pit  to  dome  while  you  are  squeez- 
ing out  pictures  of  every  dearly  beloved  friend 
that  crosses  your  pathway. 

Friend  wife  selected  a  spare  room  on  the 
top  floor  of  Uncle  Peter's  home  where  she 
could  await  developments. 

A  half  hour  later  ghostly  noises  began  to 
come  from  that  room  and  mysterious  whisper- 
ings fell  out  of  the  window  and  bumped  over 
the  lawn. 

When  I  reached  the  front  door  I  found  that 
the  gardener  had  left,  the  waitress  was  leav- 


ABOUT   SNAP   SHOTS  101 

ing,  and  the  cook  was  telephoning  for  a  police- 
man. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Henry?"  I  asked  Mary,  the 
cook. 

"She  is  still  developing,"  said  Mary. 

"What  has  she  developed?"  I  inquired. 

"Up  to  the  present  time  she  has  developed 
your  Uncle's  temper  and  she  has  developed 
your  Aunt's  appetite,  and  a  couple  of  bill  col- 
lectors developed  a  pain  in  the  neck  when  she 
took  their  pictures,  and,  if  things  go  on  in  this 
way,  I  think  this  will  soon  develop  into  a  fool- 
ish house !"  said  Mary,  the  cook. 

A  half  hour  later,  while  I  was  hiding  be- 
hind the  pianola  in  the  living  room,  not  daring 
to  breathe  above  a  whisper  for  fear  I  would 


102  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

get  my  picture  taken  again,  friend  wife  rushed 
in  exclaiming,  "Oh,  joy!  Oh,  joy!  John,  I 
have  developed  two  pictures !" 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  expression 
on  Peaches'  face. 

In  order  to  develop  the  films  a  picturesque 
assortment  of  drugs  and  chemicals  have  to  be 
used. 

Well,  friend  wife  had  used  them. 

A  silent  little  stream  of  wood  alcohol  was 
trickling  down  over  her  left  ear  into  her 
Psyche  knot,  and  on  the  end  of  her  nose  about 
six  grains  of  extract  of  potash  was  sending 
out  signals  of  distress  to  some  spirits  of  tur- 
pentine which  was  burning  on  the  top  of  her 
right  eyebrow. 


ABOUT   SNAP    SHOTS  103 

Something  dark  and  lingering  like  iodine 
had  given  her  chin  the  double-cross  and  her 
apron  looked  like  the  remnants  of  a  porous 
plaster. 

Her  right  hand  had  red,  white,  green,  pur- 
ple, and  magenta  marks  all  over  it,  and  her 
left  hand  looked  like  the  Fourth  of  July. 

"John!"  she  yelled;  "here  it  is!  My  good- 
ness, I  am  so  excited !  See  what  a  fine  picture 
of  you  I  took !" 

She  handed  me  the  picture,  but  all  I  could 
see  was  a  woodshed  with  the  door  wide  open. 

"A  good  picture  of  the  woodshed,"  I  said; 
"but  whose  woodshed  is  it?" 

"A  woodshed!"  exclaimed  friend  wife; 
"why,  that  is  your  face,  John.  And  where  you 


104  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

think  the  door  is  open  is  only  your  mouth!" 

I  looked  crestfallen  and  then  I  looked  at  the 
picture  again,  but  my  better  nature'  asserted  it- 
self and  I  made  no  attempt  to  strike  this  de- 
fenseless woman. 

Then  she  handed  me  another  picture  and 
said,  "John,  isn't  this  wonderful?" 

I  looked  at  the  picture  and  muttered,  "All  I 
can  see  is  Theodore,  the  colored  gardener, 
walking  across  lots  with  a  sack  of  flour  on  his 
back!" 

"John,  you  are  so  stupid,"  said  friend  wife. 
"How  can  you  expect  to  see  what  it  is  when 
you  are  holding  the  picture  upside  down?" 

I  turned  the  picture  around,  and  then  I  was 
quite  agreeably  surprised. 


ABOUT    SNAP    SHOTS  105 

"It's  immense!"  I  shouted.  "It's  the  real 
thing,  all  right !  Why  this  is  aces !  I  suppose 
it  is  called,  'Moonlight  on  Lake  Champlain'? 
Did  this  one  come  with  the  camera  or  did  you 
draw  it  Srom  memory?" 

"The  idea  of  such  a  thing,"  friend  wife 
snapped,  "can't  you  see  that  you're  holding 
the  picture  the  wrong  way.  Turn  it  around 
and  you  will  see  what  it  is!" 

I  gave  the  thing  another  turn. 

"Gee  whiz!"  I  said,  "now  I  have  it!  Oh, 
the  limit!  You  wished  to  surprise  me  with  a 
picture  of  the  sunset  at  Governor's  Island. 
How  lovely  it  is!  See,  over  here  in  this  cor- 
ner there's  a  bunch  of  soldiers  listening  to 
what's  cooking  for  supper,  and  over  here  is 


106  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

the  smoke  from  the  gun  that  sets  the  sun — I 
like  it!" 

Then  my  wife  grabbed  the  picture  out  of 
my  hands  and  burst  into  speech. 

"Why  do  you  try  to  discourage  my  efforts 
to  be  artistic?"  she  volleyed  and  thundered. 
"This  is  a  picture  of  you  holding  Mrs.  Mcll- 
vaine's  baby  in  your  arms,  and  I  think  it's  per- 
fectly lovely,  even  if  the  baby  is  the  only  in- 
telligent thing  in  the  picture.". 

When  the  exercises  were  over  I  inquired 
casually,  "Where,  my  dear,  where  are  the 
other  21,219  pictures  you  snapped  to-day?" 

"Only  these  two  came  out  good  because, 
don't  you  see,  I'm  an  amateur  yet,"  was  her 
come-back. 


ABOUT   SNAP    SHOTS  107 

Then  she  looked  lovingly  at  the  result  of  her 
day's  work  and  began  to  peel  some  bicarbonate 
of  magnesia  off  her  knuckles  with  the  nut- 
cracker. 

"Only  two  out  of  21,219 — I  think  you  ought 
to  call  it  a  long  shot  instead  of  a  snap  shot," 
I  whispered,  after  I  had  dodged  behind  a  sofa. 

She  went  out  of  the  room  without  saying  a 
word,  and  I  took  out  my  pocketbook  and 
looked  at  it  wistfully. 


CHAPTER    VII 

YOU  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  THE  SERVANTS 

WHEN  Peaches  and  I  get  tired  of 
the    Big    Town — tired    of    its 
noises  and  hullabaloo;  tired  of 
being   tagged   by   taxis    as    we 
cross  a  street;  tired  of  watching  grocers  and 
butchers  hoisting  higher  the  highest  cost  of 
living — that's  our  cue  to  grab  a  choo-choo  and 
breeze  out  to  Uncle  Peter  Grant's  farm  and 
bungalow  in  the  wilds  of  Westchester,  which 
he  calls  Troolyrooral. 

Just  to  even  matters  up  Uncle  Peter  and 
his  wife  visit  us  from  time  to  time  in  our 
amateur  apartment  in  the  Big  Town. 
108 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        109 

Uncle  Peter  is  a  very  stout  old  gentleman. 
When  he  squeezes  into  our  little  flat  the  walls 
act  as  if  they  were  bow-legged. 

Uncle  Peter  always  goes  through  the  fold- 
ing doors  sideways  and  every  time  he  sits 
down  the  man  in  the  apartment  below  us  kicks 
because  we  move  the  piano  so  often. 

Aunt  Martha  is  Uncle  Peter's  wife  and  she 
weighs  more  and  breathes  oftener. 

When  the  two  of  them  visit  our  bird-cage 
at  the  same  time  the  janitor  has  to  go  out  and 
stand  in  front  of  the  building  with  a  view  to 
catching  it  if  it  falls. 

When  we  reached  Troolyrooral  we  found 
that  "Cousin"  Elsie  Schulz  was  also  a  visitor 
there. 


110  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

"Cousin"  Elsie  is  a  sort  of  privileged  char- 
acter in  the  family,  having  lived  with  Aunt 
Martha  for  over  twenty  years  as  a  sort  of 
housekeeper. 

They  call  her  "Cousin  Elsie"  just  to  make 
it  more  difficult. 

Three  or  four  years  ago  Elsie  married  Gus- 
tave  Bierbauer  and  quit  her  job. 

"Cousin"  Elsie  believes  that  conversation 
was  invented  for  her  exclusive  use,  and  the 
way  she  can  grab  a  bundle  of  the  English  lan- 
guage and  break  it  up  is  a  caution. 

Language  is  the  same  to  Elsie  as  a  syphon 
is  to  a  highball — and  that's  a  whole  lot. 

Two  years  after  their  marriage  old  Gustave 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        111 

stopped  living  so  abruptly  that  the  coroner  had 
to  sit  on  him. 

The  post  mortem  found  out  that  Gustave 
had  died  from  a  rush  of  words  to  his  brain- 
pan. 

The  coroner  also  found,  upon  further  ex- 
amination, that  all  of  these  words  had  form- 
erly belonged  to  Elsie,  with  the  exception  of 
a  few  which  were  once  the  property  of  Gus- 
tave's  favorite  bartender. 

After  Gustave's  exit  Aunt  Martha  tried  to 
get  Elsie  back  on  her  job,  but  the  old  Dutch 
had  her  eye  on  Herman  Schulz,  and  finally 
married  him. 

So  now  every  once  in  a  while  Elsie  moseys 
over  from  Plainfield,  N.  J.,  where  she  lives 


YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 


with  Herman,  and  proceeds  to  sew  a  lot  of 
pillow  slips  and  things  for  Aunt  Martha. 

Yesterday  morning,  while  Peaches  and  I 
were  at  breakfast,  Elsie  meandered  in,  bearing 
in  her  hand  a  wedding  invitation  which  Her- 
man had  forwarded  to  her  from  Plainfield. 

Being,  as  I  say,  a  privileged  character,  she 
does  pretty  much  as  she  likes  around  the 
bungalooza. 

Elsie  redd  the  invitation:  "Mr.  und  Mrs. 
Rudolph  Ganderkurds  request  der  honor  of 
your  presence  at  der  marriage  of  deir  daugh- 
ter, Verbena,  to  Galahad  Schmalzenberger,  at 
der  home  of  der  bride's  parents,  Plainfield, 
N.  J.  March  Sixteenth.  R.  S.  V.  P." 

"Veil,"  said  Elsie,   "I  know  der  Gander- 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        113 

kurds  and  I  know  deir  daughter,  Verbena, 
und  I  know  Galahad  Schmalzenberger ;  he's 
a  floorwalker  in  Bauerhaupt's  grocery  store, 
but  I  doan'd  know  vot  it  is  dot  R.  S.  V.  P. 
yet!" 

I  gently  kicked  Peaches  on  the  instep  under 
the  table,  and  said  to  Elsie,  "Well,  that  is  a 
new  one  on  me.  Are  you  sure  it  isn't  B.  &  O. 
or  the  C.  R.  R.  of  N.  J.  ?  I've  heard  of  those 
two  railroads  in  New  Jersey,  but  I  never  heard 
of  the  R.  S.  V.  P." 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  since  she's -been 
able  to  grab  a  sentence  between  her  teeth  and 
shake  the  pronouns  out  of  it  Elsie  was  phazed. 

She  kept  looking  at  the  invitation  and  say- 
ing to  herself,  "R.  S.  V.  P.!  Vot  is  it?  I 


114  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

know  der  honor  of  your  presence ;  I  know  der 
bride's  parents,  but  I  don't  know  R.  S.  V.  P." 

All  that  day  Elsie  wandered  through  the 
house  muttering-  to  herself,  "R.  S.  V.  P. ! 
Vot  is  it  ?  Is  it  some  secret  between  der  bride 
und  groom?  R.  S.  V.  P.!  It  ain'd  my 
initials,  because  dey  begin  mit  E.  S.  Vot  is 
dotR.  S.  V.  P.?  Vot  is  it?  Vot  is  it?" 

That  evening  we  were  all  at  dinner  when 
Elsie  rushed  in  with  a  cry  of  joy.  "I  got  it !" 
she  said.  "I  haf  untied  der  meaning  of  dot 
R.  S.  V.  P.  It  means  Real  Silver  Vedding 
Presents !" 

I  was  just  about  to  drink  a  glass  of  water, 
so  I  changed  my  mind  and  nearly  choked  to 
death. 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        115 

Peaches  tried  to  say  something,  which  re- 
sulted in  a  gurgle  in  her  throat,  while  Uncle 
Peter  fell  off  his  chair  and  landed  on  the  cat, 
which  had  never  done  him  any  harm. 

Elsie's  interpretation  of  that  wedding  invi- 
tation is  going  to  set  Herman  Schulz  back 
several  dollars,  or  I'm  not  a  foot  high. 

And  maybe  they  don't  have  their  troubles 
at  Troolyrooral  with  the  servant  problem. 

It's  one  hard  problem,  that — and  nobody 
seems  to  get  the  right  answer. 

One  morning  later  on  Peaches  and  I  were 
out  on  the  porch  drinking  in  the  glorious  air 
and  chatting  with  Hep  Hardy,  who  had  come 
out  to  spend  Sunday  with  us,  when  Aunt 
Martha  came  bustling  out  followed  by  Uncle 


116  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

Peter,  who,  in  turn,  was  followed  by  Lizzie 
Joyce,  their  latest  cook. 

Lizzie  wore  a  new  lid,  trimmed  with  prairie 
grass  and  field  daisies,  hanging  like  a  shade 
over  the  left  lamp;  she  had  a  grouchy  looking 
grip  in  one  hand  and  a  green  umbrella  with 
black  freckles  in  the  other. 

She  was  made  up  to  catch  the  first  train 
that  sniffed  into  the  station. 

Aunt  Martha  whispered  to  us  plaintively, 
"Lizzie  has  been  here  only  two  days  and  this 
makes  the  seventh  time  she  has  started  for 
town." 

Busy  Lizzie  took  the  center  of  the  stage  and 
scowled  at  her  audience.  "I'm  takin'  the  next 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        117 

train  for  town,  Mem!"  she  announced,  with 
considerable  bitterness. 

Uncle  Peter  made  a  brave  effort  to  scowl 
back  at  her,  but  she  flashed  her  lanterns  at 
him  and  he  fell  back  two  paces  to  the  rear. 

"What  is  it  this  time,  Lizzie?"  inquired 
Aunt  Martha. 

Lizzie  put  the  grouchy  grip  down,  folded 
her  arms,  and  said,  "Oh,  I  have  me  griev- 
ances !" 

Uncle  Peter  sidled  up  to  Aunt  Martha  and 
said  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "My  dear,  this  shows 
a  lack  of  firmness  on  your  part.  Now,  leave 
everything  to  me  and  let  me  settle  this  obstrep- 
erous servant  once  and  for  all!" 


118  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

Uncle  Peter  crossed  over  and  got  in  the 
limelight  with  Lizzie. 

"It  occurs  to  me,"  he  began  in  polished  ac- 
cents, "that  this  is  an  occasion  upon  which  I 
should  publicly  point  out  to  you  the  error  of 
your  ways,  and  send  you  back  to  your  humble 
station  with  a  better  knowledge  of  your  status 
in  this  household." 

"S'cat !"  said  Lizzie,  and  Uncle  Peter  began 
to  fish  for  his  next  line. 

"I  want  you  to  understand,"  he  went  on, 
"that  I  pay  you  your  wages !" 

"Sure,  if  you  didn't,"  was  Lizzie's  come- 
back, "I'd  land  on  you  good  and  hard,  that  I 
would.  What  else  are  you  here  for,  you  fat- 
head?" 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        119 

"Fathead !"  echoed  Uncle  Peter  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"Peter,  leave  her  to  me,"  pleaded  Aunt  Mar- 
tha. 

But  Uncle  Peter  rushed  blindly  on  to  de- 
struction. "Elizabeth,"  he  said,  sternly,  "in 
view  of  your  most  unrefined  and  unladylike 
language  it  behooves  me  to  reprimand  you  se- 
verely. I  will,  therefore " 


120  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

Then  Lizzie  and  the  green  umbrella  struck  a 
Casey-at-the-bat  pose  and  cut  in :  "G'wan  away 
from  me  with  your  dime-novel  talk  or  I'll  place 
the  back  of  me  unladylike  hand  on  your 
jowls!" 

"Peter !"  warningly  exclaimed  the  perturbed 
Aunt  Martha. 

"Yes,  Martha;  you're  right,"  the  old  gen- 
tleman said,  turning  hastily.  "I  must  hurry 
and  finish  my  correspondence  before  the  morn- 
ing mail  goes,"  and  he  faded  away. 

"It  isn't  an  easy  matter  to  get  servants  out 
here,"  Aunt  Martha  whispered  to  us ;  "I  must 
humor  her.  Now,  Lizzie,  what's  wrong?" 

"You  told  me,  Mem,  that  I  should  have  a 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        121 

room  with  a  southern  exposure,"  said  the 
Queen  of  the  Bungalow. 

"And  isn't  the  room  as  described?"  in- 
quired Aunt  Martha. 

"The  room  is  all  right,  but  I  don't  care  for 
the  exposure,"  said  the  Princess  of  Porkchops. 

"Well,  what's  wrong?"  insisted  our  patient 
auntie. 

"Sure,"  said  the  Baroness  of  Bread-pud- 
ding, "the  room  is  so  exposed,  Mem,  that 
every  breeze  from  the  North  Pole  just  nachully 
hikes  in  there  and  keeps  me  settin'  up  in  bed 
all  night  shiverin'  like  I  was  shakin'  dice  for 
the  drinks.  When  I  want  that  kind  of  exer- 
cise I'll  hire  out  as  chambermaid  in  a  cold- 
storage.  I'm  a  cook,  Mem,  it's  true,  but  I'm 


122  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

no  relation  to  Doctor  Cook,  and  I  ain't  eager 
to  Sleep  in  a  room  where  even  a  Polar  bear 
would  be  gfowlin'  for  a  fur  coat." 

"Very  well,  Lizzie,"  said  Aunt  Martha, 
soothingly;  "I'll  have  storm  windows  put  on 
at  once  and  extra  quilts  sent  to  the  room,  and 
a  gas  stove  if  you  wish." 

"All  right,  Mem,"  said  the  Countess  of 
Cornbeef ,  removing  the  lid,  "I'll  stay ;  but  keep 
that  husband  of  yours  with  the  woozy  lingo 
out  of  the  kitchen,  because  I'm  a  nervous 
woman — I  am  that !"  and  then  the  Duchess  of 
Devilledkidneys  got  a  strangle-hold  on  her 
green  umbrella  and  ducked  for  the  grub  foun- 
dry. 

Aunt  Martha  sighed  and  went  in  the  house. 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        123 

"Hep,"  I  said ;  "this  scene  with  Her  High- 
ness of  Clamchowder  ought  to  be  an  awful 
warning  to  you.  No  man  should  get  mar- 
ried these  days  unless  he's  sure  his  wife  can 
juggle  the  frying  pan  and  take  a  fall  out  of 
an  egg-beater.  They've  had  eight  cooks  in 
eight  days,  and  every  time  a  new  face  comes 
in  the  kitchen  the  coal-scuttle  screams  with 
fright. 

"You  can  see  where  they've  worn  a  new 
trail  across  the  lawn  on  the  retreat  to  the 
depot. 

"It's  an  awful  thing,  Hep !  Our  palates  are 
weak  from  sampling  different  styles  of  mashed 
potatoes. 


YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 


"We  had  one  last  week  who  answered  roll- 
call  when  you  yelled  Phyllis. 

"Isn't  that  a  peach  of  a  handle  for  a  kitchen 
queen  with  a  map  like  the  Borough  of  The 
Bronx  on  a  dark  night? 

"She  came  here  well  recommended  —  by  her- 
self. She  said  she  knew  how  to  cook  back- 
wards. 

"We  believed  her  after  the  first  meal,  be- 
cause that's  how  she  cooked  it. 

"Phyllis  was  a  very  inventive  girl.  She 
could  cook  anything  on  earth  or  in  the  waters 
underneath  the  earth,  and  she  proved  it  by  try- 
ing to  mix  tenpenny  nails  with  the  baked 
beans. 

"When  Phyllis  found  there  was  no  shredded 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        125 

oats  in  the  house  for  breakfast  she  changed 
the  cover  of  the  washtub  into  sawdust  and 
sprinkled  it  with  the  whisk-broom,  chopped 
fine. 

"It  wasn't  a  half  bad  breakfast  food  of  the 
home-made  kind,  but  every  time  I  took  a  drink 
of  water  the  sawdust  used  to  float  up  in  my 
throat  and  tickle  me. 

"The  first  and  only  day  she  was  with  us 
Phyllis  squandered  two  dollars  worth  of  eggs 
trying  to  make  a  lemon  meringue  pie. 

"She  tried  to  be  artistic  with  this,  but  one 
of  the  eggs  was  old  and  nervous  and  it  slipped. 

"Uncle  Peter  asked  Phyllis  if  she  could  cook 
some  Hungarian  goulash  and  Phyllis  screamed, 
'No;  my  parents  have  been  Swedes  all  their 


126  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

lives !'  Then  she  ran  him  across  the  lawn  with 
the  carving  knife. 

"Aunt  Martha  went  in  the  kitchen  to  ask 
what  was  for  dinner  and  Phyllis  got  back  at 
her,  'Im  a  woman,  it  is  true,  but  I  will  show 
you  that  I  can  keep  a  secret !' 

"When  the  meal  came  on  the  table  we  were 
compelled  to  keep  the  secret  with  her. 

"It  looked  like  Irish  stew,  tasted  like  clam 
chowder,  and  behaved  like  a  bad  boy. 

"On  the  second  day  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
Phyllis  that  she  was  working,  so  she  handed 
in  her  resignation,  handed  Hank,  the  gar- 
dener, a  jolt  in  his  cafe  department,  handed 
out  a  lot  of  unnecessary  talk,  and  left  us  flat. 

"The  next  rebate  we  had  in  the  kitchen  was 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        127 

a  colored  man  named  James  Buchanan  Pen- 
dergrast. 

"James  was  all  there  is  and  carry  four. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  careful  cooks  that 
ever  made  faces  at  the  roast  beef. 

"The  evening  he  arrived  we  intended  to 
have  shad  roe  for  dinner  and  James  informed 
us  that  that  was  where  he  lived. 

"Eight  o'clock  came  and  no  dinner.  Then 
Aunt  Martha  went  in  the  kitchen  to  convince 
him  that  we  were  human  beings  with  appe- 
tites. 

"She  found  Careful  James  counting  the  roe 
to  see  if  the  fish  dealer  had  sent  the  right 
number. 


128  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

"He  was  up  to  2,196,493  and  still  had  a  half 
pound  to  go. 

"James  left  that  night  followed  by  shouts 
of  approval  from  all  present. 

"I'm  telling  you  all  this,  Hep,  just  to  prove 
that  Fate  is  kind  while  it  delays  your  wedding 
until  some  genius  invents  an  automatic  cook 
made  of  aluminum  and  electricity." 

Hep  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"The  servant  problem  won't  delay  my  wed- 
ding," he  chortled;  "if  there  wasn't  a  cook 
left  in  the  world  we  wouldn't  care;  we're  go- 
ing to  be  vegetarians  because  we're  going  to 
live  in  the  Garden  of  Eden." 

"Tush!"  I  snickered. 

"Tush,  yourself !"  said  Hep. 


ABOUT    THE    SERVANTS        129 

"Oh,  tush,  both  of  you,"  said  Peaches; 
"John  said  that  very  thing  to  me  three  weeks 
before  we  were  married." 

"Sure  I  did,"  I  went  back,  "and  we're  still 
in  the  Garden,  aren't  we?  Of  course,  if  you 
want  to  sub-let  part  of  it  and  have  Hep  and 
his  bride  roaming  moon-struck  through  your 
strawberry  beds,  that's  up  to  you !" 

"Well,"  said  friend  wife,  "being  alone  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden  is  all  right,  but  after 
you've  been  there  three  or  four  years  there's 
a  mild  excitement  in  hearing  a  strange  voice, 
even  if  it  is  that  of  a  Serpent!" 

Close  the  door,  Delia,  I  feel  a  draft. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

YOU    SHOULD    WORRY   ABOUT   AUCTION    BRIDGE 

RECEIVING  letters  which  I  promptly 
forget  to  answer  is  a  hobby  with  me. 
The  disease  must  be  hereditary — 
possibly  from  my  grandfather,  who 
was  a  village  postmaster.     He  used  to  get  a 
lot  of  letters  he  never  answered.     (Man  the 
life-line,  lads;  we'll  get  him  ashore  yet!) 
Well,  here's  one  I  am  going  to  answer. 
It's  a  bit  of  literature  that  reached  me  a 
day  or  two  ago,   chaperoned  by  a  two-cent 
stamp  and  a  hunk  of  pale  green  sealing-wax. 
130 


ABOUT    AUCTION    BRIDGE       131 

Philadelphia,  Lately. 

DEAR  JOHN  : — I  have  never  met  you  per- 
sonally, but  I've  heard  my  brother,  Teddy, 
speak  of  you  so  often  that  you  really  seem 
to  be  one  of  the  family. 

(Teddy  talks  slang  something  fierce.) 

Dear  John,  will  you  please  pardon  the  lib-' 
erty  I  take  in  grabbing  a  two-cent  stamp  and 
jumping  so  unceremoniously  at  one  who  is, 
after  all,  a  perfect  stranger? 

Dear  John,  if  you  look  around  you  can  see 
on  every  hand  that  the  glad  season  of  the 
year  is  nearly  here,  and  if  you  listen  atten- 
tively you  may  hear  the  hoarse  cry  of  the  sum- 
mer resort  beckoning  us  to  that  bourne  from 


122  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

which  no  traveler  returns  without  getting  his 
pocketbook  dislocated. 

Dear  John,  could  you  please  tell  me  how  to 
play  auction  bridge,  so  that  when  I  go  to  the 
seashore  I  will  be  armed .  for  defraying  ex- 
penses ? 

Dear  John,  I  am  sure  that  if  I  could  play 
auction  bridge  loud  enough  to  win  four  dol- 
lars every  once  in  a  while  I  could  spend  a  large 
bunch  of  the  summer  at  the  seashore. 

Dear  John,  would  you  tell  a  loving  but  per- 
fect stranger  how  to  play  the  game  without 
having  to  wear  a  mask? 

Dear  John,  I  played  a  couple  of  games  re- 
cently with  a  wide-faced  young  man  who  grew 
very  playful  and  threw  the  parlor  furniture  at 


ABOUT    AUCTION    BRIDGE      133 

me  because  I  trumpeted  his  ace.     I  fancy  I 
must    have    did    wrong.      The   fifth    time    I 


trumpeted  his  ace  the  young  man  arose,  put  on 
his  gum  shoes,  and  skeedaddled  out  of  the 
house.  Is  it  not  considered  a  breach  of  eti- 
quette to  put  on  gum  shoes  in  the  presence  of 
a  lady? 


134  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

If  you  please,  dear  John,  tell  me  how  to 
play  auction  bridge. 

Yours  fondly, 

GLADYS  JONES. 

P.  S.  The  furniture  which  he  threw  was 
not  his  property  to  dispose  of. 

G.  J. 

When  friend  wife  got  a  flash  of  this  letter 
she  made  a  kick  to  the  effect  that  it  was  some 
kind  of  a  cypher,  possibly  the  beginning  of  a 
secret  correspondence. 

It  was  up  to  me  to  hand  Gladys  the  frosty 
get-back,  so  this  is  what  I  said  : 

RESPECTED  MADAM  : — I'm  a  slob  on  that 


ABOUT    AUCTION    BRIDGE       135 

auction  bridge  thing,  plain  poker  being  the 
only  game  with  cards  that  ever  coaxes  my 
dough  from  the  stocking,  but  I'll  do  the  ad- 
vice gag  if  it  chokes  me : 

Auction  bridge  is  played  with  cards,  just 
like  pinochle,  with  the  exception  of  the  beer. 

Not  enough  cards  is  a  misdeal;  too  many 
cards  is  a  mistake ;  and  cards  up  the  sleeve  is  a 
slap  on  the  front  piazza,  if  they  catch  you  at  it. 

When  bidding  don't  get  excited  and  think 
you're  attending  an  auction  of  shirt-waists  at 
a  fire-sale.  It  distresses  your  partner  terribly 
to  hear  you  say,  "I'll  bid  two  dollars!"  when 
what  you  meant  was  two  spades.  Much  better 
it  is  that  you  smile  across  the  table  at  him  and 
say,  "I  bid  you  good  evening!" 


136  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

You  shouldn't  get  up  and  dance  the  Kitchen 
Sink  dance  every  time  you  take  a  trick.  It 
looks  more  genteel  and  picturesque  to  do  the 
Castle  Walk. 

When  your  opponent  has  not  followed  suit 
it  is  not  wise  to  pick  out  a  loud  tone  of  voice 
and  tell  him  about  it.  Reach  under  the  table 
and  kick  him  on  the  shins.  If  it  hurts  him  he 

is  a  cheater;  if  it  doesn't  hurt  him  always  re- 

• 

member  that  you  are  a  lady. 

When  you  are  dummy  the  new  rules  per- 
mit you  to  call  a  revoke.  When  you  see  your 
partner  messing  up  a  sure  "going-outer"  you 
may  also  call  the  police;  then  get  out  your 
calling  cards  and  call  your  partner  down,  be- 


ABOUT    AUCTION    BRIDGE       137 

ing,  of  course,  particular  and  ladylike  in  your 
selection  of  adjectives. 

Don't  forget  what  is  trumps  more  than 
eighteen  times  during  one  hand.  The  limit 
used  to  be  twenty-six  times,  but  since  the  out- 
break of  the  Mexican  war  the  best  auction 
bridge  authorities  have  put  the  limit  down  to 
eighteen. 

It  isn't  wise  to  have  a  conniption  fit  every 
time  you  lose  a  trick.  Nothing  looks  so  bad 
as  a  conniption  fit  when  it  doesn't  match  the 
complexion,  and  generally  it  delays  the  game. 

When  your  partner  has  doubled  a  no-trump 
call  and  you  forget  to  lead  his  suit  the  best 
plan  is  to  hurry  out  the  front  door,  take  a 
street  car  to  the  end  of  the  line;  then  double 


138  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

back  in  a  taxi  to  the  nearest  railway  station; 
get  the  first  train  going  West  and  go  the 
limit — then  take  a  steamer,  sail  for  Japan  and 
don't  come  back  for  seven  years.  Your  part- 
ner may  forget  about  it  in  that  time.  If  he 
doesn't,  then  you  must  continue  to  live  in 
Japan.  All  authorities  agree  on  this  point. 

When  the  game  is  close,  don't  get  excited 
and  climb  up  on  the  table.  It  shows  a  want  of 
refinement,  especially  if  you  are  not  a  quick 
-  climber. 

While  running  a  grand  slam  to  cover,  the 
best  authorities,  including  Bob  Carter,  claim 
that  you  should  breathe  hoarsely  through  the 
front  teeth,  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  re- 


ABOUT    AUCTION   BRIDGE       139 

cite  brief  passages  from  Ralph  Waldo  Emer- 
son. 

Never  whistle  while  waiting  for  someone 
to  play.  Whistling  is  not  in  good  taste.  Go 
over  and  bite  out  a  couple  of  tunes  on  the 
piano. 

When  your  opponent  trumps  an  ace  don't 
ever  hit  him  carelessly  across  the  forehead 
with  the  bric-a-brac.  Always  remember  when 
you  are  in  Society  that  bric-a-brac  is  expen- 
sive. 

If  your  partner  bids  five  spades  and  you  get 
the  impression  that  he  is  balmy  in  the  bean 
don't  show  it  in  your  face.  Such  authorities 
as  Fred  Perry  and  Dick  Ling  claim  that  the 
proper  thing  to  do  is  to  arise  gracefully  from 


140  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

your  chair  and  sing  something  plaintive,  in 
minor  chords.  This  generally  brings  your 
partner  back  to  earth,  because  nine  times  out 
of  ten  he  is  only  temporarily  crazy  with  the 
heat. 

Don't  lead  the  ten  of  clubs  by  mistake  for 
the  ace  of  trumps  and  then  get  mad  and  jump 
seventeen  feet  in  the  air  because  they  refuse 
to  let  you  pull  it  back. 

In  order  to  jump  seventeen  feet  in  the  air 
you  would  have  to  go  through  the  room  up- 
stairs, and  how  do  you  know  whose  room 
it  is? 

There,  Gladys,  if  you  follow  these  rules  I 
think  you  can  play  the  game  of  auction  bridge 


ABOUT    AUCTION    BRIDGE       141 

without  putting  a  bruise  on  the  law  regulating 
the  income  tax. 

P.   S.     When  you  play  for  money  always 
bite  the  coin  to  see  if  it  means  as  much  as  it 

looks. 

I  hope  Gladys  wasn't  offended. 
She  hasn't  sent  me  even  a  postal  card  con- 
taining thanks  and  a  view  of  Chestnut  Street. 


CHAPTER   IX 

YOU  SHOULD  WORRY  ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP 

SAY !  did  you  ever  put  on  the  goggles  and 
go  joy-riding  with  an  attack  of  grip? 
It  has  all  other  forms  of  amusement 
hushed   to  a   lullaby — take    it    from 
Uncle  Hank. 

As  a  Bad  Boy  the  grip  has  every  other  dis- 
ease slapped  to  a  sobbing  stand-still. 

It's  dollars  to  pretzels  that  the  grip  germ  is 
the  brainiest  little  bug  that  was  ever  chased  by 
a  doctor. 

I  was  sitting  quietly  at  home  reading  Mae- 
terlinck on  Auction  Bridge  when  suddenly  I 
142 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     143 

began  to  sneeze  like  a  Russian  regiment  an- 
swering roll  call. 

Friend  wife  was  deep  in  the  mysteries  of 
Ibsen's  latest  achievement,  "The  Rise  and  Fall 
of  the  Hobble  Skirt,"  but  she  politely  ac- 
knowledged my  first  sneeze  with  the  customary 
"Gesundheit!" 

Then  she  trailed  along  bravely  with  her 
responses  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  but  it 
was  no  use — I  had  more  sneezes  in  my  system 
than  there  are  "Gesundheits !"  in  the  entire 
German  nation,  including  principalities,  pos- 
sessions across  the  sea,  and  the  Musical 
Union. 

"John,"  she  ventured  after  a  time,  "you  are 
getting  a  cold !" 


144  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

"I'm  not  getting  it,"  I  sniffed;  "I  have  it 
now." 

What  a  mean,  contemptible  little  creature  a 
grip  germ  must  be.  Absolutely  without  any 
of  the  finer  instincts,  it  sneaks  into  people's 
systems  disguised  as  an  ordinary  cold.  It  isn't 
on  the  level,  like  appendicitis  or  inflammatory 
rheumatism,  both  of  which  are  brave  and  fear- 
less and  will  walk  right  up  to  you  and  kick 
you  on  the  shins,  big  as  you  are. 

Nobody  ever  knows  just  what  make-up  the 
grip  germs  will  put  on  to  break  into  the  hu- 
man system,  but  once  they  get  a  foothold  in 
the  epiglottis  nothing  can  remove  them  ex- 
cept inward  applications  of  dynamite. 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     145 

The  grip  germ  hates  the  idea  of  race  sui- 
cide. 

I  discovered  shortly  after  I  had  sneezed 
myself  into  a  condition  of  pale  blue  profanity 
that  a  newly  married  couple  of  grip  germs  had 
taken  a  notion  to  build  a  nest  somewhere  on 
the  outskirts  of  my  solar  plexus,  and  two  hours 
later  they  had  about  233  children  attending 
the  public  school  in  my  medusa  oblongata ;  and 
every  time  school  would  let  out  for  recess  I 
would  go  up  in  the  air  and  hit  the  ceiling  with 
my  Lima. 

Before  daylight  came  all  these  grip  children 
had  graduated  from  school  and,  after  tearing 
down  the  school-house,  the  whole  bunch  had 
married  and  had  large  families  of  their  own, 


146  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

and  all  hands  were  out  paddling  their  canoes 
on  my  alimentary  canal. 

By  nine  o'clock  that  morning  there  must 
have  been  eighty-five  million  grip  germs  armed 
with  self-loading  revolvers  all  trying  to  shoot 
their  initials  over  the  walls  of  my  interior  de- 
partment. 

It  was  fierce! 

When  Doctor  Leiser  arrived  on  the  scene  I 
was  carrying  enough  concealed  weapons  to 
start  something  in  Mexico. 

The  good  old  pill-pusher  threw  his  saws 
behind  the  sofa,  put  his  dip-net  on  the  mantel- 
piece, and  took  a  fall  out  of  my  pulse. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  after  he  had  noted  that  my 
tongue  looked  like  a  currycomb. 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     147 

"The  same  to  you,  Doc,"  I  said. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  looking-  hard  at  the  wall. 

"Say,  Doc!"  I  whispered;  "there's  no  use 
to  cut  off  my  leg  because  the  germs  will  hide 
in  my  elbow." 

"Do  you  feel  shooting  pains  in  the  cerebel- 
lum, near  the  apex  of  the  cosmopolitan?"  in- 
quired the  doctor. 

i 

"Surest  thing  you  know,"  I  said. 

"Have  you  a  buzzing  in  the  ears,  and  a  con- 
fused sound  like  distant  laughter  in  the  pana- 
tella?"  he  asked. 

"It's  a  cinch,  Doc,"  I  said. 

"Do  you  feel  a  roaring  in  the  cornucopia 
with  a  tickling  sensation  in  the  diaphragm?" 
he  asked. 


148  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

"Right  again,"  I  whispered. 

"Do  the  joints  feel  sore  and  pinched  like 
a  pool-room?"  he  said. 

"Right!" 

"Does  your  tongue  feel  rare  and  high- 
priced,  like  a  porterhouse  steak  at  a  summer 
resort  ?" 

"Exactly!" 

"Do  you  feel  a  spasmodic  fluttering  in  the 
concertina  ?" 
'  "Yes!" 

"Have  you  a  sort  of  nervous  hesitation  in 
your  hunger  and  does  everything  you  eat  taste 
like  an  impossible  sandwich  made  by  a  ghostly 
baker  from  a  disappearing  bread  and  phan- 
tom?" 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     149 

"Keno !" 

"Does  your  nerve  center  tinkle-tinkle  like 
a  breakfast  bell  in  a  kitchenless  boarding 
house?" 

"Right  again!" 

"Have  you  a  feeling  that  the  germs  have 
attacked  your  Adam's  apple  and  that  there 
won't  be  any  core?" 

"Yes!" 

"When  you  look  at  the  wall  paper  does 
your  brain  do  a  sort  of  loop-the-loop  and  cause 
you  to  meld  100  aces  or  double  pinochle?" 

"Yes,  and  80  kings,  too!" 

"Do  you  feel  a  slight  palpitation  of  the 
membrane  of  the  Colorado  madura  and  is  there 


150  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

a  confused  murmur  in  your  brain  like  the 
sound  of  a  hard-working  gas  meter?" 

"You've  got  me  sized  good  and  plenty. 
Doc!" 

"Do  you  have  insomnia,  nightmare,  loss  of 
appetite,  chills  and  fever  and  concealed  respi- 
ration in  the  Carolina  perfecto?" 

"That's  the  idea,  Doc." 

"When  you  lay  on  your  right  side  do  you 
have  an  impulse  to  turn  over  on  your  left  side, 
and  when  you  turn  over  on  your  left  side  do 
you  feel  an  impulse  to  jump  out  of  bed  and 
throw  stones  at  a  policeman?" 

"There  isn't  anything  you  can  mention, 
Doc,  that  I  haven't  got." 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     151 

"Ah!"  said  the  doctor;  "then  that  settles 
it." 

"Tell  me  the  truth,"  I  groaned;  "what  is 
it,  bubonic  plague?" 

"You  have  something  worse — you  have  the 
grip,"  Doc  Leiser  whispered  gently.  "You 
see  I  tried  hard  to  mention  some  symptom 
which  you  didn't  have,  but  you  had  them  all, 
and  the  grip  is  the  only  disease  in  the  world 
which  makes  a  specialty  of  having  every  symp- 
tom known  to  medical  jurisprudence." 

Then  the  doctor  got  busy  with  the  pencil 
gag  and  left  me  enough  prescriptions  to  keep 
the  druggist  in  pocket  money  throughout  the 
winter. 


152  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

Then  my  friends  and  relatives  began  to  drop 
in  and  annoy  me  with  suggestions. 

"Pop"  Barclay  sat  by  my  bedside  and,  after 
I  had  barked  for  him  two  or  three  times,  he 
decided  I  had  inflammation  of  the  lungs  and 
was  insistent  that  I  tie  a  rubber  band  around 
my  chest  and  rub  myself  with  gasolene. 

I  told  Pop  I  had  no  desire  to  become  a  hu- 
man automobile  so  he  got  mad  and  went  home. 
But  before  he  got  mad  he  drank  six  bottles 
of  beer  and  before  he  went  home  he  invited 
himself  back  to  dinner. 

Then  Hep  Hardy  dropped  in  and  ten  min- 
utes later  he  had  me  making  signs  for  an 
undertaken 

Hep  comes  to  the  bedside  of  the  afflicted  in 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     153 

the  same  restful  manner  that  a  buzz-saw  as- 
sociates with  a  log  of  pine. 

He  insisted  upon  taking  my  pulse  and  lis- 
tening to  my  heart  beats,  but  when  he  at- 
tempted to  turn  my  eyelids  back  to  see  if  I  had 
a  touch  of  the  glanders  every  germ  in  my 
body  rose  in  rebellion  and  together  we  chased 
Hep  out  of  the  room. 

The  next  calamity  was  Teddy  Pearson,  who 
had  an  apartment  on  the  floor  above  us.  Teddy 
had  spent  the  previous  night  at  a  Tango  party 
and  ever  since  daylight  he  had  been  beating 
home  to  windward.  His  cargo  had  shifted 
and  the  seaway  was  rough.  Still  clad  in  the 
black  and  white  scenery  with  the  silk  bean- 
cover  somewhat  mussed  he  groped  across  th<* 


154  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

darkened  room  and  solemnly  shook  hands  with 
me. 

Then  he  sat  in  a  chair  by  the  bedside  and 
began  to  sing  soft  lullabies  to  a  hold-over. 

Presently  he  reached  out  his  arm  and  made 
all  the  gestures  that  go  with  the  act  of  hitting 
a  bell  to  summon  a  waiter. 

Receiving  no  answer  to  his  thirsty  appeal 
he  arose  and  said,  "This  is  a  heluva  club — 
rottenest  service  in  this  club — s'limit,  that's 
what  it  is,  s'limit!"  Then  he  hiccoughed  his 
weary  way  out  of  the  room  and  I  haven't  seen 
him  since. 

An  hour  later  Uncle  Louis  Miffendale  had 
looked  me  over  and  concluded  I  had  galloping 
asthma,  compressed  tonsilitis,  chillblainous 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     155 

croup,  and  incipient  measles.  He  insisted  that 
I  take  three  grains  of  quinine,  two  grains  of 
asperine,  rub  the  back  of  my  neck  with  ben- 
zine, soak  my  ankles  in  kerosene,  then  a  little 
phenacetine,  and  a  hot  whiskey  toddy  every 
half  hour  before  meals. 

If  I  found  it  hard  to  take  the  toddy  he  vol- 
unteered to  run  in  every  half  hour  and  help 
me. 

Then  his  wife,  Aunt  Jessica,  blew  in  with 
a  decoction  she  called  catnip  tea.  She 
brought  it  all  the  way  from  the  Bronx  in  a 
thermos  bottle,  so  I  had  to  drink  it  or  lose  a 
perfectly  respectable  old  aunt. 

It  tasted  like  a  linoleum  cocktail — weouw! 

During  the  rest  of  the  day  every  friend  and 


156  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

relative  I  have  in  the  world  rushed  in,  sug- 
gested a  sure  cure,  and  then  rushed  out  again. 
Peaches  tried  them  all  on  me  and  I   felt 
like  the  inside  of  a  medicine  chest. 


To  make  matters  worse  I  drank  some  dog- 
berry  cordial  and  it  chased  the  catnip  tea  all 
over  my  concourse. 

Then  Peaches,  being  a  student  of  natural 


ABOUT  GETTING  THE  GRIP     157 

history,  insisted  that  I  take  some  hoarhound, 
I  suppose  to  bite  the  dogberry,  but  it  didn't. 

Blood  will  tell,  so  the  hoarhound  joined 
forces  with  the  dogberry  and  chased  the  cat- 
nip up  my  family  tree. 

Suffering  antiseptics!  everybody  with  a  dif- 
ferent remedy,  from  snake  poison  to  soothing 
syrup — but  it  cured  the  grip. 

Now  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  cure  the  medi- 
cine. 


CHAPTER  X 

YOU    SHOULD    WORRY    ABOUT    A    MUSICAL 

EVENING 

SAY !  did  you  ever  stray  away  from  home 
of  an  evening  and  go  to  one  of  those 
parlor  riots? 

Friend  wife  called  it  a  musicale,  but 
to  me  it  looked  like  a  session  of  the  Mexican 
congress  in  a  boiler  factory. 

They  pulled  it  off  at  Mrs.  Luella  Frothing- 
ham's,  over  on  the  Drive. 

I  like  Luella  and  I  like  her  husband,  Jack 

Frothingham,  so  it's  no  secret  conclave  of  the 

Anvil  Association  when  I  whisper  them  wise 

that  the  next  time  they  give  a  musical  even- 

158 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    159 

ing  my  address  is  Forest  Avenue,  corner  of 
Foliage  Street,  in  the  woods. 

The  Frothinghams  are  nice  people  and  old 
friends  and  they  have  more  money  than  some 
people  have  hay,  but  that  doesn't  give  them  a 
license  to  spoil  one  of  my  perfectly  good  even- 
ings by  sprinkling  a  lot  of  canned  music  and 
fricasseed  recitations  all  over  it. 

The  Frothinghams  have  a  skeleton  in  their 
closet.  Its  name  is  Uncle  Heck  and  he  weighs 
237 — not  bad  for  a  skeleton.  Uncle  Heck  is 
a  Joe  Morgan.  His  sole  ambition  in  life  is 
to  become  politely  pickled  and  fall  asleep 
draped  over  a  gold  chair  in  the  drawing  room 
when  there's  high-class  company  present. 

For  that  reason  the  Frothinghams  on  state 


160  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

occasions  put  the  skids  under  Uncle  Heck  and 
run  him  off  stage  till  after  the  final  curtain. 

On  some  occasions  Uncle  Heck  breaks 
through  the  bars  and  dashes  into  the  scene 
of  refinement  with  merry  quip  and  jest  to  the 
confusion  of  his  relatives  and  the  ill-concealed 
amusement  of  their  guests. 

This  was  one  of  those  occasions- 
Early  in  the  evening  Jack  took  Uncle  Heck 
to  his  room,  sat  him  in  front  of  a  quart  of 
vintage,  and  left  the  old  geezer  there  to  slosh 
around  in  the  surf  until  sleep  claimed  him  for 
its  own. 

But  after  the  wine  was  gone  Uncle  Heck 
put  on  the  gloves  with  Morpheus,  got  the  de- 
cision, marched  down  stairs  and  into  the  draw- 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    161 

ing  room,  where  he  immediately  insisted  upon 
being  the  life  of  the  party. 

Uncle  Heck  moved  and  seconded  that  he 
sing  the  swan  song  from  Lohengrin,  but  his 
idea  of  a  swan  was  so  much  like  a  turkey 
gobbler  that  loving  friends  slipped  him  the 
moccasins  and  elbowed  him  out  of  the  room. 

Then  he  went  out  in  the  butler's  pantry, 
hoping  to  do  an  Omar  Khayyam  with  the 
grape,  but,  not  finding  any,  he  began  to  recite, 
"Down  in  the  Lehigh  Valley  me  and  my  people 
grew;  I  was  a  blacksmith,  Cap'n;  yes,  and  a 
good  one,  too!  Let  me  sit  down  a  minute,  a 
stone's  got  into  my  shoe " 

But  it  wasn't  a  stone,  and  it  didn't  get  into 
his  shoe.  It  was  a  potato  salad  and  it  got  into 


162  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

his  face  when  the  Irish  cook  threw  it  at  him 
for  interfering  with  her  work. 

"I'm  discouraged,"  murmured  Uncle  Heck, 
and  presently  he  was  sleeping  with  magnificent 
noises  on  the  sofa  in  the  library. 

There  were  present  at  the  battle  in  the  draw- 
ing room  Uncle  Peter  Grant  and  Aunt  Mar- 
tha ;  Hep  Hardy  and  his  diamond  shirt  studs ; 
Bunch  Jefferson  and  his  wife,  Alice;  Bud 
Hawley  and  his  second  wife;  Phil  Merton  and 
his  third  wife ;  Dave  Mason  and  his  stationary 
wife;  Stub  Wilson  and  his  wife,  Jennie,  who 
is  Peaches'  sister,  and  a  few  others  who  asked 
to  have  their  names  omitted. 

The  mad  revels  were  inaugurated  by  the 
Pippin  Brothers,  who  attempted  to  drag  some 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    163 

grouchy  music  out  of  guitars  that  didn't  want 
to  give  up.  The  Pippin  Brothers  part  their 
hair  in  the  middle  and  always  do  the  march 
from  "The  Babes  in  Toyland"  on  their  man- 
dolins as  an  encore. 

If  Victor  Herbert  ever  catches  them  there'll 
be  a  couple  of  shine  chord-chokers  away  to  the 
bad. 

When  the  Pippin  Brothers  took  a  bow  and 
backed  off  into  a  vase  of  flowers  we  were  all 
invited  to  listen  to  a  soprano  solo  by  Miss 
Imogene  Glassface. 

When  Imogene  sings  she  makes  faces  at 
herself.  When  she  needs  a  high  note  she  goes 
after  it  like  a  hen  after  a  lady-bug.  Imogene 


164  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

sang  "Sleep,  Sweetly  Sleep!"  and  then  kept  us 
awake  with  her  voice. 

Then  we  had  Rufus  Kellar  Smith,  the  par- 
lor prestidigitator.  Rufus  was  a  bad  boy. 

He  cooked  an  omelette  in  a  silk  hat  and 
when  he  handed  the  hat  back  to  Hep  Hardy 
two  poached  eggs  fell  out  and  cuddled  up  in 
Hep's  hair. 

Rufus  apologized  and  said  he'd  do  the  trick 
over  again  if  some  one  would  lend  him  a 
hat,  but  nothing  doing.  We  all  preferred  our 
eggs  boiled. 

Then  we  had  Claribel  Montrose  in  select 
recitations.  She  was  all  the  money. 

Claribel  grabbed  "The  Wreck  of  the  Hes- 
perus" between  her  pearly  teeth  and  shook 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    165 

it  to  death.     Then  she  got  a  half-Nelson  on 
Poe's  "Raven"  and  put  it  out  of  business. 
Next  she  tried  an  imitation  of  the  balcony 


scene  from  Romeo  and  Juliet.  If  Juliet  talked 
like  that  dame  did  no  wonder  she  took  poison. 
Then  Claribel  let  down  her  back  hair  and 
started  in  to  give  us  a  mad  scene — and  it 
was.  Everybody  in  the  room  got  mad. 


166  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

When  peace  was  finally  restored  Airs. 
Frothingham  informed  us  that  the  rest  of  the 
"paid"  talent  had  disappointed  her  and  she'd 
have  to  depend  on  the  volunteers.  Then  she 
whispered  to,  Miss  Gladiola  Hungerschnitz, 
whereupon  that  young  lady  giggled  her  way 
over  to  the  piano  and  began  to  knock  its  teeth 
out. 

The  way  Gladiola  went  after  one  of  Bee- 
thoven's sonatas  and  slapped  its  ears  was  piti- 
ful. 

Gladiola  learned  to  injure  a  piano  at  a  con- 
servatory of  music.  She  can  take  a  Hungar- 
ian rhapsody  and  turn  it  into  a  goulash  in 
about  32  bars. 

At  the  finish  of  the  sonata  we  all  applauded 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    167 

Gladiola  just  as  loudly  as  we  could,  in  the 
hope  that  she  would  faint  with  surprise  and 
stop  playing,  but  no  such  luck. 

She  tied  a  couple  of  chords  together  and 

swung  that  piano  like  a  pair  of  Indian  clubs. 

• 

First  she  did  "My  Old  Kentucky  Home," 
with  variations,  until  everybody  who  had  a 
home  began  to  weep  for  fear  it  might  get  to 
be  like  her  Kentucky  home. 

The  variations  were  where  she  made  a  mis- 
take and  struck  the  right  note. 

Then  Gladiola  moved  up  to  -the  squeaky 
end  of  the  piano  and  gave  an  imitation  of  a 
Swiss  music  box. 

It  sounded  to  me  like  a  Swiss  cheese. 

Presently  Gladiola  ran  out  of  raw  material 


168  YOU   SHOULD    WORRY 

and  subsided,  while  we  all  applauded  her  with 
our  fingers  crossed,  and  two  very  thoughtful 
ladies  began  to  talk  fast  to  Gladiola  so  as  to 
take  her  mind  off  the  piano. 

This  excitement  was  followed  by  another 
catastrophe  named  Minnehaha  Jones,  who 
picked  up  a  couple  of  soprano  songs  and 
screeched  them  at  us. 

Minnehaha  is  one  of  those  fearless  singers 
who  vocalize  without  a  safety-valve.  She  al- 
ways keeps  her  eyes  closed  so  she  can't  tell 
just  when  her  audience  gets  up  and  leaves  the 
room. 

The  next  treat  was  a  duet  on  the  flute  and 
trombone  between  Clarence  Smith  and  Lance- 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    169 

lot  Diffenberger,  with  a  violin  obligate  on  the 
side  by  Hector  Tompkins. 

Never  before  have  I  seen  music  so  roughly 
handled. 

It  looked  like  a  walk-over  for  Clarence,  but 
in  the  fifth^  round  he  blew  a  couple  of  green 
notes  and  Lancelot  got  the  decision. 

Then,  for  a  consolation  prize,  Hector  was 
led  out  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  where  he 
assassinated  Mascagni's  Cavalleria  Rusticana 
so  thoroughly  that  it  will  never  be  able  to  en- 
ter a  fifty-cent  table  d'hote  restaurant  again. 

Almost  before  the  audience  had  time  to  re- 
cover Peaches'  sister,  Jennie,  was  coaxed  to 
sing  Tosti's  "Good  Bye !" 

I'm  very   fond   of   sister   Jennie,   but   I'm 


170  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

afraid  if  Mr.  Tosti  ever  heard  her  sing  his 
"Good  Bye"  he  would  say,  "the  same  to  you, 
and  here's  your  hat." 

Before  Jennie  married  and  moved  West  I 
remember  she  had  a  very  pretty  mezzo-concer- 
tina voice,  but  she's  been  so  long  away  helping 
Stub  Wilson  to  make  Milwaukee  famous  that 
nowadays  her  top  notes  sound  like  a  cuckoo 
clock  after  it's  been  up  all  night. 

I  suppose  it's  wrong  for  me  to  pull  this 
about  our  own  flesh  and  blood,  but  when  a 
married  woman  with  six  fine  children,  one  of 
them  at  Yale,  walks  sideways  up  to  a  piano 
and  begins  to  squeak,  "Good  bye,  summer! 
Good  bye,  summer!"  just  as  if  she  were  call- 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    171 

ing  the  dachshund  in  to  dinner,  I  think  it's 
time  she  declined  the  nomination. 

Then  Bud  Hawley,  after  figuring-  it  all  out 
that  there  was  no  chance  of  his  getting  ar- 
rested, sat  down  on  the  piano  stool  and  made  a 
few  sad  statements,  which  in  their  original 
state  form  the  basis  of  a  Scotch  ballad  called 
"Loch  Lomond." 

Bud's  system  of  speaking  the  English  lan- 
guage is  to  say  with  his  voice  as  much  of  a 
word  as  he  can  remember  and  then  finish  the 
rest  of  it  with  his  hands. 

Imagine  what  Bud  would  do  to  a  song  with 
an  oat-meal  foundation  like  "Loch  Lomond." 

When  Bud  barked  out  the  first  few  bars, 
which  say,  "By  yon  bonnie  bank  and  by  yon 


172  YOU    SHOULD    WORRY 

bonnie  brae,"  everybody  within  hearing  would 
have  cried  with  joy  if  the  piano  had  fallen 
over  on  him  and  flattened  his  equator. 

And  when  he  reached  the  plot  of  the  piece, 
where  it  says,  "You  take  the  high  road  and 
I'll  take  the  low  road,"  Uncle  Peter  took  a 
drink,  Phil  Merton  took  the  same,  Stub  took 
an  oath,  and  I  took  a  walk. 

And  all  the  while  Bud's  wife  sat  there,  with 
the  glad  and  winning  smile  of  a  swordfish  on 
her  face,  listening  with  a  heart  full  of  pride 
while  her  crime-laden  husband  chased  that 
helpless  song  all  over  the  parlor,  and  finally 
left  it  unconscious  under  the  sofa. 

At  this  point  Hep  Hardy  got  up  and  vol- 
unteered to  tell  some  funny  stories  and  this 


ABOUT  A  MUSICAL  EVENING    173 

gave  us  all  a  good  excuse  to  put  on  our  over- 
shoes and  say  "Good  night"  to  our  hostess 
without  offending  anybody. 

Hep  Hardy  and  his  funny  stories  are  always 
used  to  close  the  show. 

"John,"  said  Peaches  after  we  got  home ;  "I 
want  to  give  a  musicale,  may  I  ?" 

"Certainly,  old  girl,"  I  answered.  "We'll 
give  one  in  the  nearest  moving  picture  theater. 
If  we  don't  like  the  show  all  we  have  to  do  is 
to  close  our  eyes  and  thank  our  lucky  stars 
there's  nothing  to  listen  to." 

"Oh !  aren't  you  hateful !"  she  pouted. 

Maybe  I  am  at  that. 


A  LIST  of  BOOKS 

By 
HUGH    McHUGH 

(GEORGE   V.  HOBART) 

This  famous  author  of  the  well-known  "John  Henry"  books 
numbers  his  sales  almost  up  to  the  million-mark,  and  his 
delightful  humor  has  created  wholesome  fun  for  readers 
wherever  his  books  are  to  be  found.  Every  page  brings  fresh 
amusement,  and  every  paragraph  tickles  the  fancy.  They 
fairly  radiate  optimism  and  good  cheer  in  every  community. 


Back  to  the  Woods.    i6mo.   Cloth.   Illustrated.    $0.75 

Beat  It.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated 75 

Cinders.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated 75 

Dinkelspiel's  Letters  to  Looey.      i6mo.     Cloth. 

Hustrated 75 

Down  the  Line.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.    .     .     .75 
Eppy  Grams  by  Dinkelspiel.     i6mo.     Cloth.    .     .     .75 

Get  Next.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated 75 

Go  To  It.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated 75 

Ikey's  Letters  to  His  Father.     i2mo.     Cloth.  .     .     .75 
I'm  Frr  m  Missouri.     i6mo.      Cloth.     Illustrated.     .75 
I  Need  the  Money.      i6mo.      Cloth.     Illustrated.     .75 
It's  Up  to  You.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.   .     .     .75 
John  Henry,  and  Other  Stories.    Popular  Edition. 
(Three  volumes  in  one.)     I2mo.     Cloth.     Illus- 
trated  50 

On  the  Hog  Train.     Paper  Covered 25 

Out  for  the  Coin.     i6mo.      Cloth.     Illustrated!     .     .75 
The  Silly  Syclopedia.     i6mo.    Cloth.    Illustrated.     .75 

Skiddoo.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated 75 

You  Can  Search  Me.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.     .75 


"fT^HE  ART  OF  THE  PHOTOPLAY"  is  a  condensed 
$  textbook  of  the  technical  knowledge  necessary  for 
•^  the  preparation  and  sale  of  motion  picture  scenarios. 
More  than  35,000  photoplays  are  produced  annually  hi  the 
United  States.  The  work  of  staff-writers  is  insufficient. 
Free-lance  writers  have  greater  opportunities  than  ever 
before,  for  the  producing  companies  can  not  secure  enough 
good  comedies  and  dramas  for  their  needs.  The  first  edi- 
tion of  this  book  met  with  unusual  success.  Its  author,  now 
the  Director  General  of  Productions  for  the  Beaux  Arts  Film 
Corporation,  is  the  highest  paid  scenario  writer  in  the  world, 
as  well  as  being  a  successful  producing  manager.  Among  his 
successes  were  the  scenarios  for  the  spectacular  productions: 
"Robin  Hood,""The  Squaw  Man,"  "The  Banker's  Daughter," 
"The  Fire  King,"  "Checkers,"  "The  Curse  of  Cocaine"  and 
"The  Kentucky  Derby." 

WHAT  THOSE  WHO  KNOW  HAVE  SATO: 

"In  my  opinion,  based  upon  six  years'  experience  producing  motion  pictures, 
Mr.  Eustace  Hale  Ball  is  the  most  capable  scenario  writer  in  the  business  today." 
(Signed)  W.  F.  HADDOCK, 

Producing  Director  with  Edison,  Eclair,  All  Star,  and 
now  President,  Mirror  Film  Corporation. 

"Mr.  Ball  has  thoroughly  grasped  present  day  and  future  possibilities  of  the 
Moving  Picture  business  with  relation  to  the  opportunities  for  real  good  work  by 
scenario  writers."  (Signed)  P.  KIMBERLEY, 

Managing  Director,  Imperial  Film  Company,  Ltd., 

London,  England. 

"To  those  who  wish  to  earn  some  of  the  money  which  the  moving  picture 
folk  disburse,  Eustace  Hale  Ball  proffers  expert  and  valuable  advice. " 

NEW  YORK  TIMES  REVIEW  OF  BOOKS. 

"Ball's  Art  of  the  Photoplay  puts  into  concrete  form,  with  expert  simplicity, 
the  secrets  of  writing  photoplays  which  appeal  to  the  millions  of  Americans 
who  attend  the  theatres  and  the  producers  can  not  buy  enough  of  such  plays  to 
satisfy  the  exhibitors. "  (Signed)  ROBERT  LEE  MACNABB, 

National  Vice-President,  Motion  Picture 

Exhibitor's  League  of  America. 

"You  have  succeeded  in  producing  a  clear  and  helpful  exposition  of  the  sub- 
ject." (Signed)  WM.  R.  KANE, 

Editor  of  "The  Editor  Magazine." 

12  mo.  Cloth  bound,  $1.00  Net. 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO.,  Publishers    NEW  YORK 


Books  by  Edward   Marshall 

BAT— An  Idyl  of  New  York 

"The  heroine  has  all  the  charm  of  Thackeray's  Marchioness  in 
New  York  surroundings." — New  York  Sun.  "  It  would  be  hard  to 
find  a  more  charming,  cheerful  story." — New  York  Times.  "Alto- 
gether delightful." — Buffalo  Express.  "The  comedy  is  delicious." 
— Sacramento  Union.  "  It  is  as  wholesome  and  fresh  as  the  breath 
of  springtime." — New  Orleans  Picayune.  i2mo,  doth.  Illustrated. 
$1.00  net. 

THE  MIDDLE  WALL 

The  Albany  Times-Union  says  of  this  story  of  the  South  African 
diamond  mines  and  adventures  in  London,  on  the  sea  and  in 
America:  "As  a  story  teller  Mr.  Marshall  cannot  be  improved 
upon,  and  whether  one  is  looking  for  humor,  philosophy,  pathos, 
wit,  excitement,  adventure  or  love,  he  will  find  what  he  seeks, 
aplenty,  in  this  capital  tale."  lamo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  *o  cents. 

BOOKS  NOVELIZED  FROM  GREAT  PLAYS 

THE  MASTER  OF  THE  HOUSE 

From  the  successful  play  of  EDGAR  JAMES.  Embodying  a  won- 
derful message  to  both  husbands  and  wives,  it  tells  how  a  deter- 
mined man,  of  dominating  personality  and  iron  will,  leaves  a  faithful 
wife  for  another  woman.  1 2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated  from  scenes  ir 
the  play.  Net  $1.25. 

THE  WRITING  ON  THE  WALL 

The  Rocky  Mountain  News : "  This  novelization  of  OLGA  NETHER- 
SOLE'S  play  tells  of  Trinity  Church  and  its  tenements.  It  is  a 
powerful,  vital  novel."  izmo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  50  cents. 

THE  OLD  FLUTE  PLAYER 

Based  on  CHARLES  T.  DAZEY'S  play,  this  story  won  the 
friendship  of  the  country  very  quickly.  The  Albany  Times-Union: 
"  Charming  enough  to  become  a  classic."  1 2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated. 
50  cents. 

THE  FAMILY 

Of  this  book  (founded  on  the  play  by  ROBERT  HOB  ART  DAVIS), 
The  Portland  (Oregon)  Journal  said:  "Nothing  more  powerful  has 
recently  been  put  between  the  covers  of  a  book."  i2mo,  cloth. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 

THE  SPENDTHRIFT 

The  Logansport  (Ind.)  Journal :  "A  tense  story,  founded  on  PORTER 
EMERSON  BROWNE'S  play,  is  full  of  tremendous  situations, 
and  preaches  a  great  sermon."  i2mo,  cloth  bound,  with  six  illus- 
trations from  scenes  in  the  play.  50  cents. 

IN  OLD  KENTUCKY 

Based  upon  CHARLES  T.  DAZEY'S  well-known  play,  which  has 
been  listened  to  with  thrilling  interest  by  over  seven  million  people. 
"A  new  and  powerful  novel,  fascinating  in  its  rapid  action.  Its 
touching  story  is  told  more  elaborately  and  even  more  absorbingly 
than  it  was  upon  the  stage." — Nashville  American.  I2mo,  cloth. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 


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